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OF 1 





(^^ Stcif^ and G^nout^ of ^Ae 

A Brilliant Description ot 
the Courts of Louis XVI, 
Amours, Debauchery, Intrigues, 
and State Secrets, including 
Suppressed and Confiscated MSS. 


The Life and Letters of 

Madame Elisabeth 

de France 

Sister of Louis XVI 

^n€a>putgaUd SUndiUon into &n^ffi^A 




Copyright, 1899, 
By H. p. & Co. 

All Rights Reserved, 

,. < 


£Mtion &e Xuxe 

This edition is limited to two 
hundred copies^ of which this 
is Number 



part iPirBt^ 




IntTodiictoiy.— Sketch of the Life of Madame £liflabeth from her 

Childhood nntUAngiut 10, 1792 1 


Letters of Madame l^Iisabeth to the MaxqiiiBe de Bomhelles, the Mar- 
quise de Raigecoart, the Abhtf de Lnberaac, and others 33 


Madame ifeUaabeth's Life in the Tower of the Temple recorded onlj bj 
her Niece, Marie-Th^r^ de France, and bj Cl^iy, Lonis XVl.'s 
Valet.— Her Bemoval to the Conciergerie. — Her Examination, 
Condemnation, and Death 90 




The lOth of Angnst, 179S. Cl^ry permitted to aeire the King and hia 
Family. — Life and Treatment of the Royal Family in the Tower 
of the Temple Ill 




Continuation of their Life and Treatment.— The King separated from 

his Familji and sammoned for Trial before the Conrention . . . 138 


The King's Trial.— His Will- The Decree of the Convention con- 
demning the King to Death. — Last Meeting with his Family. — 
Leaves the Temple for his Execution 175 

|9art ^irD« 


First Uprising of the Popnlaoe on the 5th and 6th of October, 1789. — 

Removal of my Family to the Capital 210 

Flight of my Father; his Stoppage at Yarennes ; his Return to Paris 216 

Assaolt on the Tnileries by the Popnlace, Jane 20, 1792 230 

Massacre at the Tnileries; Dethronement of my Father. — The Days 

from the 10th to the 13th of Angast, 1792 236 

Imprisonment of my Family in the Tower of the Temple, August 13, 
1792, followed by the Trial and Martyrdom of my Father, January 
21,1793 243 

Life in the Tower of the Temple from the Death of Louis XVI. to that 

of the Queen, October 16, 1793 259 

Life in the Temple till the Martyrdom of Madame ]£!lisabeth and the 

Death of the Dauphin, Louis XVIL, June 9, 1795 278 

Brief sketch of the Life of Marie-Th^r^ until her death, October 18, 

1851 289 


Homage to the Duchesse d'Angouldme, by C.-A. Sainte-Beuve . . . 295 



L Montreun 311 

n. Pint Examination of Madame illiaabeth by Ponqoier-TinTiUe, 

Ma/ 9, 1794 313 

m. Extract from the Deliberations of the Commiraionen of the 

Commane on the Service of the Temple 317 

IV. Signs agreed upon to make known to the Princesses the Progress 
of the yarions Armies, etc.; and sundry Commnnications from 
Madame J^lisabeth to M. Turgj 318 

V. Louis XYL's Seal and Ring 323 

INDEX . 325 


By Mme. Vlg^ Le Bmn ; Portraits Natioiianx. 



By Richard; YaiBaillaa. 

Louis XVL 80 

By DnpleMii; Yenailha. 


By Mom. Yifte La Bmn; Uattrea da ZIX Sitela. 

Tm Daufhut Aim Mat>amib Botals 182 

By Hma. T!g<to La Bmn; YanaiUaa. 

TiffAT>AOT BoTALB, BnoHBSia D'Airaoniiiai SIO 

"Bj Danlovx; Yinuuu 

QiTSBK Habib-Ahtoirxttb LBATore THB Tkibuvaii Aran mm 
CkniDSjnrATioH to Dbath 878 

Panl Dalamoha. 

Fao-sxmilb or a Fraokbht or Lbttbx ov Mapamb Alibabbtk . 87 

DirrBBBiTT SxALS U8XD BT Mahamb Alibabbth and attaohxd 

to hbb Lbttbbs 89 

Thb Towbb or thb Tbxplb 125 

Fao-aocilb or Siobatubbs to Examibatiok or Mm. ^Suaabbth 316 



Madame ISlisabeth de France. 



IntrodnctoTy. — Sketch of the Life of Madame ^lisaheth from her Child- 
hood until AugruBt 10, 17ft2. 

Many records of Madame Elisabeth exist, but only two of 
real authority : the " filoge historique de Mme. Elisabeth de 
France," by Antoine Ferrand, minister of State and peer of 
France, first published in 1814 and again in 1861 ; and the 
" Vie de Madame Elisabeth," by M. A de Beauchesne, Paris, 
1869. Both works contain a number of her letters. From 
these volumes the following record has been made, chiefly in 
their own (translated) words. The parts selected are the 
simple historical facts of Mme. Elisabeth's story. The other 
parts may not be false, — far be it from us to say they are, — 
but they are so romantically tender as to convey a sense of 
extravagance, and thus do injury to the noble figure which 
the truth presents. For instance, it is recorded by her biog- 
raphers that as her head fell into the basket a perfume of 
roses was wafted over the Place Louis XV. The impression 

that we of the present day receive from such a statement is 


2 .., . LIFE. AND LETTERS OF [chap. x. • 

• . . - ' 

of folly .a^d f uboineL . flatteiy ^ yet the essential truth is in 
the simx^e &6ts; where- th^nndying 

actions of the just 
Smell sweet, and blossom in the dust. 

This record of Madame Elisabeth is here followed by the 
** Journal of the Temple," written by Q^ry, the valet who at- 
tended on Louis XYI. to the last hour of his life, and by the 
far more valuable and even precious Narrative of that em- 
bodiment of sorrow, Marie-Th^rfese de France, daughter of 
Louis XYI. and Marie-Antoinette, and later Duchesse d'An- 
gouldme. There we see the end of the great French mon- 
archy (for the restored kings were not the monarchy). No 
one can read this series of Memoirs — Saint-Simon, d'Argen- 
son, Bemis — without realizing the causes of that mighty 
fall; not to be found so much in the career of the Great 
Monarch as in the lowered standards he left behind him, 
the corruption of the regency, and the long reign of his 
great-grandson's vice and ineptitude which consolidated the 
wrongs of France. 

One fact shines clear above this mass of evil ; and it is 
allowable to call the attention of the reader to it forcibly. 
Beside the enervating depravity of the Regent, the personal 
cowardice and sloth of Louis XY., the lack of firmness and 
regal assertion of Louis XYI. and his brothers, stands the 
splendid courage, physical and moral, of the three women 
whose ends are here recorded. 

Elisabeth-Philippine-Marie-H^lfene de France, daughter of 
the Dauphin Louis, son of Louis XY., and Marie-Josfephe de 
Saxe, was bom at Yersailles, May 3, 1764. Her three 
brothers, the Due de Berry, the Comte de Provence, and the 
Comte d' Artois, were taken to the chapel on the same day, 
immediately after the king's mass, to witness her baptism, at 
which were present also the king and queen, the king's sis- 


ters Mesdames Ad^lMde, Yictoire, Sophie, and Louise, the 
Due d'Orl^ans, the Due de Chartres, the Prince de Cond4, 
the Prince and Princesse de Conti, the Due de Penthievre, 
the Prince de Lamballe, and others. 

At her birth Madame Elisabeth was so delicate that for 
months her existence was a source of continual anxiety. 
Her father died the following year, and her mother, the wise 
and excellent Dauphine Marie-Josfephe, in 1767. The little 
orphan was then given wholly to the care of the Comtesse 
de Marsan (daughter of the Prince de Soubise), governess of 
the Children of France, who was already bringing up Elisa- 
beth's sister, Madame Clotilde de France, afterwards Queen 
of Sardinia, who was four years and eight months older than 
Elisabeth. The diiference in character and temper was 
greater stilL Clotilde was bom with the happiest disposi- 
tion, which needed only to be encouraged and aided. Elisa- 
beth was very different ; it was often necessary to oppose her 
nature, and always to direct it Proud, inflexible, passionate, 
she had defects to be mastered which would have been re- 
grettable in a lower rank ; in a princess of royal blood they 
were intolerable. The task of Mme. de Marsan was a dijffi- 
cult one. Madame Elisabeth's self-wUl was powerful, proud 
of her birth, she exacted around her supple instruments of 
it ; she said she had no need to learn and tire herself use- 
lessly, inasmuch as princes had about them persons whose 
duty it was to think for them. She stamped with anger if 
one of her women did not immediately bring her the thing 
she asked for. The difiference in the characters of the 
sisters made a difference in the feelings of their governess 
towards each. Jealousy came to increase the asperity of the 
younger sister's nature. "If Clotilde had asked you," she 
said, one day, when Mme. de Marsan had refused a request, 
** s?u would have had it" 

4 LIFE AND LETTERS OF [chap. i. 

But Elisabeth was taken ill, and Clotilde insisted on taking 
care of her. This illness developed between them feelings 
of the tenderest a£fection; Clotilde taught her little sister 
the alphabet and how to spell and form words, she gave her 
little counsels which tended to soften her character, and she 
inculcated in her the first notions of religion with which she 
was already nourishing her own souL 

StUl, Mme. de Marsan felt the want of aid in seconding 
the reform in the child's nature which she had so much 
at heart to bring about, and she cast her eyes on Mme. de 
Mackau, whose husband had been minister of the king at 
Eatisbon. This lady was educated at Saint-Cyr, an estab- 
lishment which kept notes of not only the character and 
merits of its pupils, but followed their careers in the world 
for which it had formed them. It was from information 
thus derived that Mme. de Marsan asked the king to appoint 
Mme. de Mackau, who was living in retirement in Alsace, 
as sub-governess. This choice proved to have all the ele- 
ments required to work a happy change in the nature of a 
self-willed and haughty child. Mme. de Mackau possessed 
a firmness to which resistance yielded, and an affectionate 
kindness which enticed attachment. Armed with almost 
maternal power, she brought up the Children of France as 
she would have trained her own children; overlooking no 
fault ; knowing, if need were, how to make herself feared ; 
all the while leading them to like virtue. To a superior 
mind she added a dignity of tone and manners which in- 
spired respect When her pupil gave way to the fits of 
haughty temper to which she was subject, Mme. de Mackau 
showed on her countenance a displeased gravity, as if to re- 
mind her that princes, like other persons, could not be liked 
except for their virtues and their good qualities. Distressed 
and disconcerted by this sudden and unexpected change^ 


Elisabeth, whose nature it was to be unable to feign or to 
hide whatever was passing in her soul, gave in this way a 
great advantage to her governess, quick to profit by the 
knowledge she thus gained of the child's inner feelings. 

Little by little, Elisabeth yielded to wise and friendly 
management, and the defects which retarded her progress 
and prevented her from getting the advantages of her educa- 
tion gradually effaced themselves. Her wise governesses 
n^lected nothing that could form her mind; they ac- 
customed her to discuss questions with ease and without 
pedantry ; to pose an argimient properly, to examine it with 
discernment, and to bring logic to bear upon it and solve it. 
As aU progress is accomplished only by degrees, the young 
princess continued for some time to commit her early faults. 
On such occasions, becoming more and more rare, she met a 
stem look, a stiff manner ; and that simple show of displeas- 
ure was an efficacious correction. The proud and violent 
qualities changed, little by little, into firmness of principles, 
into a nobUity and eneigy of feeling which made her in after 
years superior to the trials that filled her lifa 

Deprived of her parents and of the tenderest emotions of 
nature, her heart turned to fraternal love, which became from 
childhood her dominant passion. She cherished her three 
brothers, but a sort of predilection drew her to the Due de 
Berry, the Dauphin. Was it that she already felt he would 
be unhappy because he was fated to be king ? This tender- 
ness of heart, which had so far served to correct Elisabeth's 
defects, was destined to be the the source of her consolation, 
her courage, her sorrows, and her devotion. 

About this time, on certain days, when serious study was 
over, a few yoimg ladies of merit, of religious principles and 
good education, were admitted to the privacy of the young 
princesses. It was a circle created to utilize their leisure 


as well as to amuse it, to form them to the customs of the 
world, to teach them to express their ideas with grace and 
concision, to judge of things with accuracy, and state their 
judgments clearly. These meetings had the precious advan- 
tage of being recreations which, under youthful gayety and 
perfect modesty, initiated them unconsciously in that divin- 
ing tact, that knowledge of the world, so difficult to acquire, 
which consists in discerning at first sight the value of indi- 
viduals, in estimating the nature and dominant spirit of each 
society under whatever form it presents itself : in short, the 
tact of sagacity, which became in the end so trained in Elisa- 
beth that she was rarely mistaken in the opinion she 
formed of persons or of the spirit of the society in which she 
found herself. Madame Elisabeth seldom amused herself 
with frivolous talk, she was never really interested in a con- 
versation unless there was something to gain from it. Time 
was precious to her. 

The Abb^ de Mont^gut, canon of Chartres, who was ap- 
pointed, in 1774, tutor to the Children of France, contributed 
to develop in Madame Elisabeth the religious sentiments 
which never left her in after life. He explained to her 
the Grospels as being both the school of duty and the 
source of consolations. She applied herself to their study 
with a penetration above her age. One might almost say 
that a secret inspiration warned her that she was destined to 
find there the best and first of knowledge. As her intelli- 
gence developed, those two precepts became deeply rooted 
in her. Religion seemed to her a chain of duties and conso- 
lations, the first link of which, attached in heaven, was ever 
drawing humanity towards its origin and its completion. 

Mme. de Marsan, on her side, took her often to Saint-Cyr. 
That royal establishment, which bore the imprint of a 
saintly and majestic thought, awakened all the sympathies 


of the young girl, who never left it without regret and 
promises to return. 

Louis XV. died on the 10th of May, 1774, when Elisa- 
beth was ten years old, and the Due de Berry, the Dauphin 
and his wife, Marie-Antoinette, became £ing and Queen 
of France; the first nineteen years of age, the second 
a year younger. That year and the next were passed 
by the young princesses in their secluded school life, but 
always accompanying the Court, whether at Versailles, Fon- 
tainebleau, Marly, Compi^gne, or La Muetta The following 
year Madame Elisabeth was confirmed and made her first 
communion, and the sisters were parted by the marriage of 
Clotilde to the Prince of Piedmont, afterwards King of Sar- 
dinia. No sensation of sorrow had as yet affected Elisabeth's 
heart ; her sister's departure was her first experience of it, 
and when the moment of separation came, she clung to her 
with such force that they were obliged to tear them apart 
Queen Marie-Antoinette, writing a few days later to her 
mother, the empress, says : — 

*^ My sister Elisabeth is a charming child, who has intelli- 
gence, character, and much grace; she showed the greatest 
feeling, and much above her age, at the departure of her 
sister. The poor little girl was in despair, and as her health 
is very delicate, she was taken Ul and had a very severe 
nervous attack. I own to my dear mamma that I fear I am 
getting too attached to her, feeling, from the example of my 
aunts, how essential it is for her happiness not to remain an 
old maid in this country." 

It was on the 12th of May, 1776, that Turgot and Male- 
sherbes, the two ministers whom the philosophical party, the 
" party of progress," had brought into power to effect reforms 
at the beginning of the new reign, quitted their ministry. 
" Ah ! " cried Louis XVL, as Malesherbes asked him to accept 

8 LIFE AND LETTERS OF [chjlf. i. 

his resignation : '^ how fortunate you are ! would that I could 
get away also I " It would take too long here to enter into 
pubUc details which have not as yet a close connection with 
the life of Madame Elisabeth ; suffice it to say briefly, that 
all efforts at reform on the part of these ministers and the 
young monarch miscarried. The king's edicts which sup- 
pressed the corvSe (forced labour) and abolished corporations 
and their privilege, were bitterly opposed in parliament ; and 
it required a lit de justice to enforce their registration. All 
attempts to reform the army made by the Comte de Saint- 
Germain, minister of war, and his auxiliary, M. de Guibert,* 
also failed. With singular xmwisdom they contrived to dis- 
please the officers and discontent the troops at the very 
moment when it was so necessary to be able to count upon 
the inviolable fidelity of the army. 

Nothing, therefore, of all that was attempted succeeded 
well, and Louis XVI. began the second portion of his reign 
with vanished illusions and fears for the future. 

On the 17th of May, 1778, the Court went to Marly. The 
king having determined to give his sister an establishment, 
she was on that day resigned into his hands by her then 
governess, the Princesse de Gu6m6n6e, and His Majesty 
gave her the Comtesse Diane de Polignac as lady of honour, 
with the Marquise de S^rent as lady-in-waiting. From that 
moment there was question of her marriage. Her hand 
seemed, in the first instance, destined to the Infant of 
Portugal, Prince of Brazil, who was the same age as herself 
and would eventually have brought her the title of queen. 
While she saw the conveniences of this alliance, Madame 
Elisabeth was far from wishing it, and though she personally 
put no obstacle in the way, she was comforted on learning 
that the negotiations were broken off. 

^ The loTer of Mile, de LespinaBBe. — Tb. 


Shortly after, two other princes sought the honour of 
obtaining her hand. One was the Duke of Aosta, who was 
five years older than herself and could give her, in a neigh- 
bouring and friendly Court, a place on the steps of a throne 
beside her sister Clotilde; but the political pride of the 
government asserted that a secondary place at the Court of 
Sardinia was not becoming to a Daughter of France. Her 
third suitor was the Emperor Joseph II., brother of Marie- 
Antoinette, who on the occasion of his journey to France the 
preceding year had been struck by the vivacity of her mind 
and the sweetness of her nature. But the anti-Austrian 
party, which by that time (1783) prevailed at Court, where 
it had already sown aroimd the queen distrust and hatreds, 
dreaded an alliance which might be contrary to its ascen- 
dancy, and set to work to prevent it. The intrigue succeeded. 
It was said, without groimds, that Madame !6lisabeth felt 
some regret at this conclusion. The emperor had not yet 
shown in politics the eccentricities of his mind, and he had 
just lost a wife whose youth, virtues, and piety had won the 
love and benedictions of a whole people.^ But Madame 
Elisabeth, although she assuredly possessed all the qualities 
that fitted her for such an inheritance, seemed to attach no 
greater value to this union than to the other marriages with 
which policy had interfered. 

As time went on, Madame Elisabeth strengthened herself 
perceptibly against the dangers of her nature, her age, and 
the Court ; she felt more and more what was lacking in her. 
Her efforts increased from her self-distrust, and the more she 
acquired higher qualities the less she knew herself capable 
of the perfection she sought to attain. It was this f eeUng 

1 She was the daughter of Madame Infanta Dnchess of Parma, oldest 
twin daughter of Louis XY., consequently the first cousin of Madame 
i;iisabeth. — Tb. 

10 LIFE AND LETTERS OFl [chjlp. i. 

of humility which gave to her speech an exquisite restraint^ 
to her actions a prudent reserve, and to her charity a wise 

All the young girls who had been brought in contact with 
Madame Elisabeth or had grown up with her, sharing her 
studies and her pleasures, gave her a warm and sincere de- 
votion; to them she was not the princess but the friend. 
"How lovable you are, my heart," she says in one place, 
"to wish to forget that I am princess ; nothing could give 
me greater pleasure than to forget it myself; I say it as I 
think it Friendship, you see, my BombeUes, is a second 
life, which sustains us in this low world." 

Among these yoimg girls were two or three whom her 
heart distinguished specially, and with them she corre- 
sponded steadily to the last of her living life. One was 
Mile, de Mackau, the daughter of the lady to whom she 
owed so much, who was early married to the Marquis de 
Bombelles, then ambassador to Portugal, and at the time of 
the Bevolution ambassador to Venice. Another was Mile. 
Marie de Causans, third daughter of the Marquise de 
Causans, who was appointed by the king, at the time 
Madame Elisabeth's establishment was formed, as lady of 
honour and superintendent of his sister's household. Her 
second daughter, Virginie, was chanoinesse at Metz, who spent 
the months of her vacation in Madame Elisabeth's establish- 
ment. The love between them became so strong that the 
princess dreading the moment of the young girl's return to 
her Chapter endeavoured to make her one of her own ladies- 
in-waiting ; but the Marquise de Causans, although a widow 
of small means and a large family, made it a principle that 
none of her four daughters should hold office at Court unless 
she was married, and she turned a deaf ear to Madame Elis- 
abeth's entreaties. Then a thought came to the princess; 


she went one morning to the queen and said in her coaxing, 
gentle way : ** Promise to grant me what I am going to ask 
of you." The queen, before promising, wished to know the 
request, and a playful battle ensued. Finally Madame £lisa* 
beth yielded and said: ^'I want to give Causans a dot; ask 
the king to advance me for five years the thirty thousand 
francs he always gives me as a New Tear's gift." The 
queen very willingly took charge of the commission, and 
the king as willingly granted the request. The Marquis 
de Eaigecourt presented himself as a husband, and Louis 
XVI. appointed the young wife as lady-in-waiting to his 
sister. Her joy knew no bounds. For five years she 
received no presents, and when the matter was mentioned 
she would say, "I have no presents yet, but I have my 
Eaigecourt" The fifth year expired in 1789, but by that 
time public difficulties intervened, and the custom of years 
was given up. 

A brother of Mme. de Baigecourt, the Marquis de Causans, 
a member of the States General, was also a friend of Madame 
Elisabeth, who kept up a close correspondence with him on 
the events of the time. Her letters were said by him to 
contain very just and lofty conceptions on passing events, 
and especially on what was taking place in the Assembly. 
That collection of letters, in which the energy of her spirit 
and the penetration of her views were visible, it is said, 
on every page, was confided by the Marquis de Causans, at 
the time he was compelled to emigrate, to hands which he 
had every reason to consider peculiarly safe ; but it disap- 
peared in one o£ those cataclysms of which the revolutionary 
tornado produced so many examples. 

Madame Elisabeth's letters to Mme. de Bombelles and 
Mme. de Baigecourt, while somewhat cautious as to public 
affairs, nevertheless express, as we shall see later, a sound 

12 LIFE AND LETTERS OF [chap. i. 

and independent judgment on principles and passing events, 
and are the only personal revelation of her heart and mind 
which we possess before the black pall drops forever, on the 
10th of August, 1792, between the family in the Temple and 
the world. 

The domestic happiness which Madame Elisabeth now 
began to enjoy in her own little circle seems to have 
reigned in the palace of Versailles as welL Never before 
did the Court of France present such a sight : a young 
queen living in perfect harmony with two sisters-in-law of 
her own age, and a young king liking to lean on the friend- 
ship of his two brothers. *'The greatest intimacy," says 
Mme. Campan, " existed between the three households [that 
of the king, that of Monsieur^ the Comte de Provence, and 
that of the Comte d'Artois]. ** They met together at meals, 
and ate apart only when their dinners were in public. This 
manner of family living lasted until the time when the 
queen allowed herself to dine occasionally with the Du- 
chesse de Polignac, but the evening meeting for supper was 
never interrupted, and it took place always in the apartments 
of the Comtesse de Provence. Madame Elisabeth took her 
place there as soon as she had finished her education, and 
sometimes Mesdames, the king's aunts, were invited. This 
family intimacy, which had no precedent at Court, was the 
work of Queen Marie-Antoinette, and she maintained it 
with great perseverance." 

The interests and pleasures of a young Court nevertheless 
gave rise to intrigues which at times divided the members 
of the royal family. The king and his brothers were each of 
different natures. Louis XVI., who possessed the virtues 
of an honest man, was far from having all those which are 
required in a king. His self-distrust was extreme. While 
he was still dauphin, if a question arose that was difBicult 


to decide, *'Ask my brother of Provence about that," he 
would say. Trustful in others, he surrendered his own will 
readily ; but if he discovered that any one deceived him he 
flew into fits of passion. He had neither firmness of char- 
acter nor grace of manner. Like certain excellent fruits 
with a knotty rind, his exterior was rough, but the heart 
perfect. Stem to himself alone, he kept the laws of the 
Church rigorously, abstained and fasted during the forty 
Lenten days, but thought it right that the queen should not 
imitate him. Sincerely pious, but trained to tolerance by 
the influence of the century in which he lived, he was also 
disposed, too disposed perhaps, to yield the prerogatives of 
the throne whenever the interests of his people were alleged 
to him ; forgetting that one of the first interests of a nation 
is the maintenance of a strong and incontestable power. 
A weak royalty is impotent both to do good and to prevent 

There was in Louis XVI. something honest which did not 
accept complete liability (solidaritf) for the preceding reign ; 
but, heir of a regime of which he bore the weight, he was ill 
at ease between a past which roused repugnance and a 
future, not threatening as yet, but full of doubts and mys- 
tery. Simple, economical, liking to read and study, seeking 
to forget his throne in the exercise of himting or of manual 
labour, detesting women without virtue and men without con- 
science, he seems a stranger in his own Court, where morals 
were light and consciences easy. A young king, given to 
moderation and faithful to duty, regarding himself as the 
father of all Frenchmen, but especially drawn to those who 
were weakest, could not be appreciated by courtiers, men for 
the most part frivolous and in debt, corrupters or corrupted, 
who regarded innovations as a danger and reforms as a crime. 

The Comte de Provence, whose intellect and education 


14 LIFE AND LETTERS OF [chap. i. 

were on a par, concealed beneath a prudent dignity his re- 
gret at not being put by fate in the first rank. Versed in the 
culture of letters, aided by a wonderful memory, he felt him- 
self, in a literary aspect, to be far superior to the king his 
brother. This sentiment was bom in him from childhood. 
One day the Due de Berry, playing with his brothers, used 
the expression il pleuva. " What a barbarism I " cried the 
Comte de Provence, "a prince ought to know his own 
tongue." " And you ought to hold yours," retorted the elder. 

Monsieur took pleasure in the society of men of letters ; he 
endeavoured to explain to himself the soxKce and inspiration 
of the new ideas that rose on the horizon, he prepared him- 
self for events that he might not be surprised by them ; he 
temporized with parties and united with none ; he lived with 
his brothers without dissensions and without confidence ; he 
toyed with opinion coldly ; and when the day came that un- 
fortimate arrangements made the king's departure a failure 
at Varennes, he cleverly kept out of danger and reserved 
himself for the future. 

The Comte d'Artois was a type of the Frenchman of the 
olden time ; careless in temperament, gay in mind, and with 
all the chivalrous graces. Well made, choice in his toilet, 
adroit at all exercises of the body, he never appreciated 
grandeur except for the advantages it gave him, nor fortune 
except for the pleasures it procures. The manner in which 
he regarded women followed him even into the sanctuary. 
" Monseigneur," said the Bishop of Limoges on one occasion, 
** I have a favour to ask of your Eoyal Highness, — it is that 
you will not come to mass." Bom in a frivolous and vo- 
luptuous Court, he took the habits of it ; but his heart was 
generous, and that quality survived exile, a throne, and 

It is easy to see how . around three such princes men of 


different morals and ideas groaped themselves ; honest men 
were near Louis XYI., politicians near the Comte de Pro- 
vence^ the frivolous and volatile near the Comte d'Artois. 
Thus the friends of the king were few, those of MonsieuT 
numerous, those of the Comte d'Artois innumerable. The 
last had the pretension to think themselves directly under 
the patronage of the queen, who, lively and brilliant, wanted 
the pleasures of her age and took delight in the Comte d'Ar- 
tois, who amused her and whose tastes were somewhat like 
her own. The jealous and malignant spirit of a swarm of 
courtiers endeavoured to make a crime of the queen's liking 
for the gay young brother-in-law, but they have not suc- 
ceeded, to the eyes of history, in poisoning amusements wit- 
nessed by the whole Court, not to speak of the Comtesse 
d'Artois, whose affection for the queen remained unchanged. 

Such was the interior of the palace of Versailles during 
the years which preceded the Revolution. The princes and 
princesses of the blood seldom appeared there ; their tastes 
and habits were different. "Of the three branches of the 
House of Bourbon," said the old Mar^chal de Richelieu, one 
day, ''each has a ruling and pronounced taste: the eldest 
loves hunting; the Orleans love pictures; the Cond^s love 
war." ** And Louis XVI.," some one asked, ** what does he 
love ? " " Oh, he is different, he loves the people." 

Except on occasions of formal etiquette, the absence from 
Court of the princes of the blood was noticeable. Exception 
must be made, however, of the Princesse de Lamballe, whose 
functions, as superintendent of the queen's household and 
her affection for the queen herself, kept her always at Court. 
The princes of the blood, whom the quarrels with parliament 
had thrown into the Opposition, considered it advisable to 
add to the privileges of their birth the advantages of popu- 
larity obtained by the so-called independence of their opin- 

16 LIFE AND LETTERS OF [chap. i. 

ions. The time was comiDg when the great House of Bourbon 
was to weaken and condemn itself to impotence by the fall- 
ing apart of its sheaves. 

Madame Elisabeth was now, at the age of fifteen, to find 
herself mistress of her actions, surrounded by the splendours 
of fortune, invited to share all pleasures, and observed by 
every eye. What is liberty at that age if not release from 
stiidy, amusement, toilet, jewels, and fdtes ? Such was not 
the programme of the king's young sister. Her conscience 
took upon itself the duty of exercising the same control and 
watchfulness over her conduct that her governesses had just 
laid down. ^ My education is not finished," she said ; " I 
shall continue it under the same rules; I shall keep my 
masters, and the same hours will be given to religion, the 
study of languages, belles-lettres, instructive conversations, 
and to my walks and rides on horseback." And she kept 
to all that she thus planned. 

Her appearance at this time has been described and painted, 
although she herself had a great repugnance to sitting for her 
picture. Her figure was not tall, neither had her bearing that 
majesty which was so much admired in the queen ; her nose 
had the shape which is characteristic of the Bourbon face ; 
but her forehead with its pure lines giving to her coimte- 
nance its marked character of nobleness and candour, her 
dark blue eyes with their penetrating sweetness, her mouth 
with its smile that showed her pretty teeth, and the expres- 
sion of intelligence and goodness that pervaded her whole 
person formed a charming and sympathetic presence. 

It was at this time that she began to reflect on public 
affairs, and her first strong interest was in America. In spite 
of many difficulties, Louis XVI. had succeeded in mak- 
ing certain useful reforms in the interior of the kingdom. 
He abolished the corvie, substituting for it taxes in money ; 


he created in Paris the Mont-de-Pi^t^ (pawn or loan shops) 
and the Caisse d'Escompte ; he also calmed the public fear of 
bankruptcy by securing the payment of the Funds (rentes) 
on the H6tel-de-Ville. The first political event of his reign 
was the war of independence in America. By an act recently 
put forth, the English Parliament declared it " had the right 
to force the colonies to obey all its laws and in all cases." 
It was this act, the execution of which destroyed the very 
shadow of freedom, which produced the American Eevolution. 

The representatives of the future United States assembled 
and by a solemn act declared the inhabitants of the colonies 
free and independent and released from all relations with 
England. This Congress called religion to the support of the 
dawning liberty, and placed America beneath the immediate 
protection of Providence. That august dedication was made 
with great ceremony: a crown, consecrated to God, was 
placed upon the Bible; and that crown was then divided 
into thirteen parts for the deputies of the thirteen prov- 
inces, and medals were struck to commemorate this event. 
All the women of the country, at their head the wife of 
Washington, made themselves remarkable for their patriotic 
zeal ; acts of an ancient chivalry and heroism signalized this 
memorable war, the reading of which wrung tears of ad- 
miration and enthusiasm from Madame Elisabeth. 

We cannot enter into the details of the great events that 
follow. Our troops were fortunate in this war as auxiliaries ; 
America threw ofif the British yoke and secured her inde- 
pendence, but our navy and that of Spain, our ally, suffered 
cruelly. This war, although it was, like all war, contrary to 
the feelings of humanity in Madame £lisabeth, nevertheless 
flattered her national pride, and made the sacrifices which 
ended in her brother^s gloi!y and that of the nation less pain- 
ful to bear. But what she especially noted with warm satis- 


18 LIFE AND LETTERS OP [chap, l 

taction throughout the struggle was the generous spirit that 
ruled it and sometimes lessened its evils. Thus she read 
with pleasure in a report, addressed November 26, 1781, to 
the minister of the navy, by the Marquis de Bouill4, then 
governor of Martinique, that the French troops under his 
orders had, on seizing the island of SaintrEustache, shown 
a spirit of justice and loyalty equal to their patience and 

" I found in the government house," writes M. de Bouill^, 
'^ the sum of a imllion sterling which was in sequestration, 
awaiting a decision of the court of London. It belonged to 
the Dutch; and I made it over to them after obtaining 
authentic proofs of their ownership." 

And again, in another report to the minister of the navy, 
Captain de la P^rouse, commanding a squadron of the king, 
writing on board the *' Sceptre " in the Hudson straits, Sep- 
tember 6, 1782, says : — 

^ I took care, when burning the fort at York, to leave a 
rather considerable storehouse at a distance from the fire, 
in which I deposited provisions, powder, shot, guns, and a 
certain quantity of European merchandise, such as was suit- 
able to exchange with savages, in order that the English, 
who I know have taken refuge in the woods, may find, on 
their return to their old quarters, enough for their subsis- 
tence until the English authorities have been informed of 
their situation. I feel certain that the king will approve my 
conduct in this respect, and that in thus providing for those 
imfortunates I have only forestalled the benevolent inten- 
tions of His Majesty." Such facts as these were collected 
and told by Madame Elisabeth with delight. 

In the year 1781 the king bought the property of the 
Princesse de Gu^m^n^e, at Montreuil, which the wreck of her 
husband's fortunes did not allow her to retain. He asked 


the queen, to whom he had confided his project, to invite 
Elisabeth to go to Montreuil when they next drove out to- 
gether, and take her (with a purpose) into the house of 
her former governess, of which he knew his sister was very 
fond. Delighted with the surprise she was to give to the 
young girl, Marie-Antoinette gave the invitation : " If you 
like," she said, " we will stop on our way at Montreuil, where 
you were so fond of going when a child." Elisabeth replied 
that it would be a great pleasure. On arriving, they found 
everything arranged to receive them, and as soon as they had 
entered the salon the queen said : " Sister, you are in your 
own house. This is to be your Trianon. The king, who 
gives himself the pleasure of giving it to you, gives me the 
pleasure of telling you." 

The brotherly inspiration of Louis XVI. was not at fault. 
This gift became to Madame Elisabeth a source of infinite 
enjoyment ; for from this moment she was able to associate 
her dearest friends familiarly with her daily existence, and 
escape from the pomps of Court whenever her duty did not 
require her presence there. Madame Elisabeth was bom for 
private intimacy; lively, confiding, and expansive in her 
familiar circle of a few friends, she was timid, reserved, 
and even embarrassed, not only in the queen's salons, but in 
her own, surrounded by all her ladies. It was therefore to 
her a source of the keenest enjoyment, or rather of happi- 
ness, to have this private home of her own with its rural 

The park and mansion, of which she now took possession, 
was near the barrier at the entrance to Versailles on the road 
to Paris. The park itself was of twelve acres, charmingly di- 
versified with greensward and trees, and with shrubbery paths 
among the copses in aU directions. A large section of the 
property Madame Elisabeth presently devoted to a cow- 

i :. K . ^.* 1.1 n Liis 1'.^ 

: r:\xv ». 


• » 

I I 

I .' " 

. <» t 

I 1*^ 

' .1 Mi..!<.i.i«* KKsabi'tli had 

•: .:* :\< s.Mjji ji- she \va.- |»iii in 

. -..' , ;^>'-d the enf Irt* dav tluMv, 

I ' i*\ •; !' ,' j:!n at. r:jliL,t»r h>T* 

' • »1 •.:;.'-'^ in [h** in. niln^ in 

. .1 irnil ti'./''lv lli'.iM" it WCU'^ 


■ .» airi. ;.', ky Mil ht>rs«'-.,.«k, an 
t r J'.! I, •'• c'':i>rliii:js s-n fo'»L 
: 'I '••»:• V ..^ \i''.i\'rm, like ih'it 

'* 'V >:>'■ . . ^^ -k. :.:..l r-.:M>h<, rillu-r ah)ai» ur 

■v'cu]M» ■ i \' ]r 1' 1. >f I- kiil <»;it her 

' '/:•] •>> *!'!•. II- n .'i i^oul n-vard. .'uid 

• . auT :;f ♦:!.. ]•'- '.-; <ir L v»il all runil 

I an owr->« •T, { wlioni .-}iL* frive full 

• T"SriJ ; fKid ll'-:*^ nu:^. ';v.'I iii'».-c uiuler lilin 

•s v.i;'j <^i' h '■..'. a! 1 :• •i.iu'LV no di^- 


.^l ■ L i.''^"-.:! -Ill l<\i lii;>» li i})]»v Svjliindo. 

''•ih \w.:- n 't Ml*.* 'ir.l wl'Ji htr ^)Wn en- 

'». ^ ' -n d;i' I'M-aiu* ihf fii/rid and 

M.'(i""i'i-- \ iUii.v* a'^1 iij-' "'ivi^.u:!. S^i» 

.!^' ] >i «'nj:h. • ili"ir i:!l' i\-.^us 1 .' -.ui i* 

> t'U' d»\v'nvl ar.d niani'/il, tlie «'^d 




and the worthy were cared for, the sick were nursed and 
doctored. The milk of her dairy went to the children, the 
vegetables and fruits to the sick ; often she could be seen at- 
tending to the distribution herself. All this was not done 
without personal sacrifice. Her means were comparatively 
small ; she had only the pension which she received as sister 
of the king, but she eked it out by economy, — economy on 
herself, be it said. " Yes, that is very pretty," she replied, 
when urged to buy a jewel which she fancied, *' but with 
that money I could set up two little homes." Various other 
anecdotes of this kind have come down to us, but Madame 
Elisabeth herself frowned on any notice being taken of such 
deeds. On one occasion, when the Bishop of Alais made her 
a fulsome speech of admiration, she said, blushing, that he 
judged her far too favourably. " Madame," he replied, '' I am 
not even on the level of my subject." " You are right," she 
said, with a certain little sarcasm that was all her own; 
"you are very much above it." 

One pleasure which she derived from her new way of liv- 
ing was that of seeing her brothers witih greater freedom. 
Monsieur would often drive out to Montreuil and spend 
hours with her. " My brother, the Comte de Provence," she 
said one day, "is the most enlightened of advisers. His 
judgment on men and things is seldom mistaken, and his 
vast memory supplies him with an inexhaustible source of 
interesting anecdotes." The society of the Comte d'Artois 
gave her interests of another kind. More sensible than he, 
she often permitted herself to lecture him. Gay and heed- 
lesS) he laughed at her advice, but as he advanced in life he 
b^an to love her with a tenderness mingled with vener- 
ation, a feeling which increased as misfortunes closed down 
upon them. After he had left France, those about him could 
guess when he received a letter from her ; emotion showed 

22 LIFE AND LETTERS OF [chap. i. 

on his features and his hands trembled as he opened it. 
Seciprocal affection between a brother and sister was never 
keener, truer, or more ezpansiva 

Madame Elisabeth's relation to Louis XVI. was of still 
another character. They both seemed aware that she was, 
and would be, necessary to him. She liked to visit her aunt 
Louise, the Carmelite nun at Saint-Denis. The king became 
uneasy at the frequency of these visits. ** I am very will- 
ing," he said to her one day, *' that you should go aud see 
your aunt, but only on condition that you will not imitate 
her. Elisabeth, I need you" Her heart had told her that 
already, and the time was swiftly approaching when 
she obeyed the inward call and gave up her life to him. 

Thus flowed the days of the happy young princess until 
the terrible winter of 1788-89, when the sufiferings of 
the poor exhausted her means and made her run in debt to 
advance to the starved and frozen people what she called 
** their revenue." Her letters show that already she foresaw, 
and rightly, the public troubles that were soon to appear. 
She knew the character of the king ; she believed that his 
impolitic action on the 8th of May, 1788, could end only 
in the recall of the parliament, of M. Necker, and the con- 
vocation of the States-GeneraL Li a letter of hers dated 
June 9, 1788, she says : '^ The king returns upon his steps, 
as did oxK grandfather. He is always afraid of being mis- 
taken; his first impulse passed, he is tormented by a fear 
of doing injustice. ... It seems to me," she continues, '' that 
it is in government as it is in education : one should not toy 
/ vnll, unless one is sure of being right ; then, once said, 
nothing should be given up of what has been ordained." 
Madame Elisabeth would fain have had the king take that 
principle as his rule of conduct, and she foresaw the evils 
that his kindness and his weakness would produce. '^I 


see a thousand things/' she says, *^ which he does not even 
suspect, because his soul is so good that intrigue is foreign to 
it" The note of foreboding, not, perhaps, fully compre- 
hended by her own mind, is in much that she says and 
writes at this period. Instinctively she turns to the support 
of her life — to the spirit of faith — and we find her in- 
most thoughts in a prayer to the Sacred Heart of Jesus, 
written at this time and given to Mme. de Eaigecourt, the 
manuscript of which, in her own handwriting, is preserved 
in the Bibliothfeque Rationale: — 

*^ Adorable heart of Jesus, sanctuary of the love that led 
Grod to make himself man, to sacrifice his life for our salva- 
tion, and to make of his body the food of our souls: in 
gratitude for that infinite charity I give you my heart, and 
with it all that I possess in this world, all that I am, aU that 
I shall do, all that I shall suffer. But, my God, may this 
heart, I implore you, be no longer unworthy of you ; make it 
like unto yourself ; surround it with your thorns and close its 
entrance to aU ill-regulated affections ; set there your cross, 
make it feel its worth, make it willing to love it. Kindle 
it with your divine flame. May it bum for your glory ; may 
it be all yours, when you have done what you will with it. 
You are its consolation in its troubles, the remedy of its ills, 
its strength and refuge in temptation, its hope during life, its 
haven in death. I ask you, heart so loving, the same 
favour for my companions. So be it." 

" Aspiration. 

" O divine heart of Jesus ! I love you, I adore you, I invoke 
you, with my companions, for all the days of my life, but 
especially for the hour of my death. 

vere adorator et unice amator Dei^ miserere nobis. Amen." 

24 LIFE AND LETTEBS OF [cbjlf. i. 

It was on the 5th of October, 1789, the day when the 
Parisian mob of men and women marched to Versailles and 
compelled the king to take the fatal step of going to Paris, 
that Madame Elisabeth was suddenly, without warning, 
hurried from her dear Montreuil, never to enter it again. 
From the terrace of her garden she saw the first coming of 
the populace, and, mounting her horse, she rode to the palace. 
The king was out hunting, but messengers had gone for him, 
and when he returned she urged him to stand firm against 
this vanguard of anarchy, saying that a vigorous and immedi- 
ate repression would avert great future evils, and advising 
with true instinct that if the royal family left Versailles at 
all, it should be for a town at a distance from Paris, where 
loyal men could rally to the king and enable him to break 
through the tyranny that the factions were beginning to 

For a moment he seemed to listen to her and to the coun- 
sels of M. de Saint-Priest, minister of the interior, whose 
opinions agreed entirely with hers. But his firmness gave 
way before the views of M. Necker, and he consented to 
negotiate, as power to power, with the rioters. Prompted by 
its leaders, the mob demanded that the king should instantly 
fix his residence in Paris, and M. de la Fayette sent message 
after message urging him to comply. Madame Elisabeth 
expressed her contrary opinion: "It is not to Paris, Sire, 
that you should go. Tou have still devoted battalions and 
faithful guards to protect you. I implore you, my brother, 
not to go to Paris." 

The king, pulled this way and that by conflicting opin- 
ions, hesitated too long ; the moment for resistance went by ; 
the troops, indignant at a thoughtless neglect of them, lost 
ardour, and the king, without initiative, without will, deferred 
to the clamour of the multitude and gave his promise to 


depart. As the miserable procession passed Montreuil^ 
Madame Elisabeth bent forward in the carriage to look at 
tilie trees of her dear domain. '' Are you bowing to Montreuil, 
sister ? " asked the king. " Sire, I am bidding it farewell/' 
she answered gently. 

From this time she shared the captivity — for such it was 
— of her brother and his family. At first a semblance of 
social life was kept up at the Tuileries. The Princesse de 
Lamballe tried to gather a society about her, and the queen 
for a while appeared at her assemblies ; but confidence and 
safety were gone ; this last effort of gayety, begun by the 
princess to brighten the queen's life, ceased, and the royal 
family took up a system of living which they followed ever 
after, even in the Temple. During the mornings the queen 
and Madame lEjlisabeth superintended the lessons of Madame 
Soyale and the dauphin, and worked at laige pieces of 
tapestry. Their minds were too preoccupied by the events 
of the day, the perils of the present and the threats of the 
future, to allow them to read books, as they did later in the 
awful silence and monotony of the Tower ; needlework be- 
came their sole distraction. Mile. Dubuquois, who kept a 
shop for wools and tapestries, long preserved and exhibited a 
carpet made by the two princesses for the large room of the 
queen's apartment on the ground floor of the Tuileries. 

During this time Madame Elisabeth conJ)inued whenever 
the opportunity came to her to urge the king to assert him- 
self and firmly maintain his power and the monarchy. 
When M. de Favras was executed (February 19, 1790) and 
the king did not, or could not, interfere to save him, she 
exclaimed in the bitterness of her hejurt : " They have killed 
Favras because he tried to save the king, and the days of 
October 5th and 6th remain impunished I Oh, if the king 
would only le king, how all would change ! " She saw with 

26 LIFE AND LETTERS OP [chap. i. 

dread the coming crisis which, breaking the lines of govern- 
ment, would render the king's will impotent and repression 
impossible. This conviction appears in many details of her 
life. Noticing that one of her ladies looked attentively into 
the garden of the Tuileries (May, 1791), she asked what 
attracted her attention. ^ Madame, I am looking at our 
good master, who is walking there." " Our master ! " she 
exclaimed. '' Ah ! to our sorrow, he is that no longer." 

The queen shared the anxiety that the king's weakness 
inspired in Madame iSlisabeth, but she had a hope which 
Madame [Elisabeth did not share. She was convinced that 
the safety of the royal family and the French monarchy 
would be imdertaken by Austria, and that some efficacious 
succour would come from that direction, without her making 
any appeal for it This was attributing to her brother and 
the cabinet of Vienna a generosity they were far from hav- 
ing, and admitting a hope which her enemies were not slow 
in turning into a crime. 

It should here be remarked that Madame Elisabeth judged 
the politics of the European cabinets with severity. She was 
very far from approving the official advice and crafty insinu- 
ations which made their way to Queen Marie-Antoinette. 
Having a profound aversion for all that did not seem to her 
upright, just, and straightforward, she was convinced that the 
secret proceedings of the Comte de Mercy — " that fox," as 
she called him — would prove fatal; but being without power 
to combat that influence, she could only pity Marie-Antoi- 
nette for enduring it, and for lending an ear to counsels 
which, without serving the family welfare, compromised, in 
her opinion, the stability of her brother's throne. To be 
just, we must here remark that Madame Elisabeth had been 
brought up, like all the princesses of the House of France, to 
distrust Austria. The same feelings could not be expected 

179S] liADAME Elisabeth de France. 27 

of the daughter of Maria Theresa. Equitable history wiQ 
recognize that Marie-Antoinette never dreamed of sacrificing 
France to her native country ; but she did hope and believe 
that the alliance with the House of Austria, of which her 
marriage had been a pledge, would serve the interests of the 
two nations, and be a support to the French monarchy now 
shaken to its foundations. 

The day came at last when Louis XVI,, goaded by his vir- 
tual captivity and exposed to the virulent actions of the clubs 
as well as to the monstrous insults of the street populace, 
attempted to recover power. He resolved to leave Paris and 
raise his standard elsewhere in France, thus following, on 
the 20th of June, 1791, the advice his sister had given him 
October 5, 1789. 

The story of the escape from Paris and the stoppage at 
Yarennes is too fully told elsewhere to repeat it here. Ma- 
dame Elisabeth makes only brief allusion to it in her letters 
of that date. After their return to Paris M. de la Fayette, ap- 
pointed by the National Assembly governor of the Tuileries 
and keeper of the king and royal family, offered to allow 
Madame Elisabeth to leave the kingdom. This she refused 
to accept, and that decision sealed her fate. Nevertheless, 
she shuddered as she contemplated with clear eyes the posi- 
tion of the king and queen, deprived of all military support, 
reduced to beg their friends to go away from them, isolated 
henceforth on a throne without power, captives in a palace 
which was really a prison, and forbidden the last right of 
misfortune, that of complaint. She saw that in vain the 
king had sacrificed his prerogatives, given up his rights, 
abandoned his honours ; the factions by this time disputed 
even his right to think, and measured out to him and his 
family the very air they breathed. Madame Elisabeth made 
hfflself no illusions as to the projects of the anarchists ; on 

28 LIFE AND LETTERS OF [ohap. i. 

the 20tli of June, 1792, the anniyersaiy of the capture at 
Yarennes, they justified her fears. 

She relates the events of that day in a letter, omitting, 
however, certain acts of her own which redound to her glory. 
As the king left his family to face the mob, she followed him, 
and darting through the door, which was instantly locked 
behind her, she placed herself beside him as he stood on- 
a table which the pressure of the mob had forced him to 
moimt with the bonnet rouge upon his head. The populace 
took her for the queen and threatened her. ^ Do not unde- 
ceive them," she said. There she remained for several hours, 
exposed to the vilest insults. Once when a bayonet almost 
touched her breast, she turned it aside with her hand, saying : 
'* Take care, monsieur, you might wound me, and I am sure 
you would be sorry for that." 

A woman of the people, speaking the next day of the fail- 
ure of the attack, said: ''We could do nothing; they had 
their Sainte Genevieve with them," giving her the name the 
fish-wives applied to her as the carriage entered Paris on the 
fatal 5th of October, the last day of the French monarchy. 

It was on the day following this 20th of June, that Louis 
XVI. wrote to his confessor : " Come and see me this even- 
ing, I have done with men ; I can now concern myself only 
with heaven." 

In spite of the vast emigration of nobles and gentlemen 
who abandoned their country and their king from the 
time of the first revolutionary alarms in 1789, — which has 
been, perhaps, too much condoned by history in view of 
their great misfortunes, — a few faithful men remained in 
Paris after June 20th, resolved to save the king and his 
family if it were still possible. They knew that the attack 
of June 20th was an organized blow, missed for the moment, 
but certain to be repeated. As early as the morning of the 


7th of August they had precise informatioii as to what was 
to happen on the 10th, and they formed a definite plan for 
the rescue of the royal family. Malouet, in his " Memoirs 
of the Constituent Assembly/' of which he was a member^ 
gives a cleiir account of this. 

Even the Constitutional party, alarmed at the rapidity 
with which the Bevolution was rushing towards anarchy, 
was ready to rally to the king, and would have supported 
any action that removed him from Paris and placed him 
with the army ; it was even proposed among them to bring 
a division under Greneral de la Fayette to Compifegne to 
favour the escape of the royal family. This plan, conceived 
as early as May, 1792, failed, owing to the king's incurable 
distrust of the constitutionals and his remembrance that to 
them he owed the failure at Varennes. Malouet says : — 

'' M. de la Fayette, who now judged the state of things 
more soundly than he did at the beginning of the Bevolution, 
was sincere in his desire to devote himself to the king and 
the Constitution, after having contributed to put them in 
great periL He was sure of his army and that of his 
coUeagae Luckner, if the king decided to put himself at 
their head. He came to Paris in May to make the proposal, 
and as he knew the king had confidence in me he asked me 
to meet him." 

Louis XYI. rejected this proposal, and Malouet adds: 
" Whatever were the desires, the hopes of the royal family, 
nothing justifies the imprudence of the king in isolating 
himself without defence in the midst of his enemies, and in 
not being willing, or not knowing how, to rally to himself 
a national party. . . . Can it be believed that the king, 
whose judgment was accurate, that the queen, who did not 
lack enlightenment or courage, that Madame Elisabeth, who 
had much of both, should have willingly reduced themselves 

30 LIFE AND LETTERS OF [chap. z. 

in the midst of the greatest dangers to complete inaction ? 
... I do not doubt that the secnrity and hopes of the 
queen and Madame fllisabeth fastened themselves on help 
from the foreign Powers, which the king never invited ex- 
cept with much circumspection and always in hopes of avert- 
ing a national war. These tentatives were as inconsequent 
as all else that he did. There was nothing precise, nothing 
complete in his plan ; the secret powers given to the Baron 
de Breteuil were only contingent; more vague than un- 
limited, they appealed neither to the foreign armies, nor to 
the great body of imigrSs assembled on the frontier; they 
simply tended to the mediation of the allies of France." 

Meantime the crisis was approaching. The 5th of 
October and the 20th of June foretold it; on the 10th of 
August it came. There is comfort in feeling that a few 
generous hearts remained in Paris watching for a chance 
to save the royal family even at the last moment. Malouet 
was one of them, and he thus tells of their final effort, their 
forlorn hope: — 

** M. de Lally [Tollendal]," he says, " came frequently to 
OTU* meetings at the house of M. de Montmorin with MM. 
de Malesherbes, Clermont-Tonnerre, Bertrand, la Tour-du- 
Pin, Sainte-Croix, and Qouvemeur Morris, envoy of the 
United States, for whom the king had a liking, and who 
gave His Majesty (but as uselessly as the rest of us) the 
most vigorous advice. It was on the 7th of August that we 
dined together for the last tima Our conference had for its 
object to attempt a fresh effort to carry off, by means of the 
Swiss Guard, the royal family and take them to Pontoisa 
Being fully warned in detail of all the preparations for the 
10th of August, we had been assembled in consultation ever 
since the morning at M. de Montmorin's. He had written 
to the king informing him of everything, and saying that 


now there could be no holding back; that we should be 
the next morning before daylight^ to the number of seventj, 
at the royal stables^ where the order must be given to have 
saddle-horses ready for us ; that the National Guard of the 
Tuileries^ commanded by Adoque, would aid our expedition ; 
that four companies of the Swiss Guard would start at the 
same hour from Courbevoie and come to meet the king; that 
we ourselves should escort him to the Champs-iSlys^es and 
put him in a carriage with his family. The bearer of the 
letter came back without reply. M. de Montmorin went at 
once to the king. Madame Elisabeth informed him that the 
insurrection would not take place ; that Santerre and Potion 
had pledged themselves to that; that they had received 
seven hundred and fifty thousand francs to prevent it and 
to bring the MarseiUais over to the king's side. The king 
was none the less anxious and agitated^ though fully de- 
cided not to leave Paris. ... He said he preferred to ex- 
pose himself to all dangers than begin civil war." 

This is not the place to relate the public events of those 
days^ so well known, with their causes and actors, to history ; 
suffice it to say that the plan which miscarried June 20th 
was carried out on the 10th of August, when the king was 
persuaded, against the will of his wife and sister, to seek 
refuge in the National Assembly, while the Swiss Guard, 
believing he was still in the palace, fought to defend him 
and were butchered to a man. ^'Nail me to that wall," 
said Marie-Antoinette, "if I consent to go." 

But before this day Madame Elisabeth had abandoned 
hope ; she no longer sought to arm the king with courage ; 
the lines of her face, and the look from her eyes now said, 
" Sesignation/' and such was her history from that moment. 
Her last letter bore date August 8, 1792, — two days before 
the fatal 10th ; in it she spoke of the " death of the execu- 

32 LIFE AND LETTERS OF [chap. x. 

tive power," adding, " I can enter into no details." The last 
glimpse we have of her as a comparatively free woman on her 
way through the Tuileries to the National Assembly, is given 
by M. de La Eochefoucanld, in his unpublished Memoirs :— 

" They issued," he says, " by the centre door [of the Tuile- 
ries]. M. de Bachmann, major of the Swiss Guard, came first 
through two ranks of his soldiers. M. de Poix followed him 
at a little distance, walking immediately before the king. 
The queen followed the king, leading the dauphin by the 
hand. Madame Elisabeth gave her arm to Madame the king's 
daughter ; the Princesse de Lamballe and Mme. de Tourzel 
followed. I was in the garden, near enough to oflfer my arm 
to Madame de Lamballe, who was the most dejected and 
frightened of the party ; she took it The king walked erect ; 
his countenance was composed, but sorrow was painted on his 
face. The queen was in tears ; from time to time she wiped 
them and strove to take a confident air, which she kept for 
a while ; nevertheless, having had her for a moment on my 
arm, I felt her tremble. The dauphin did not seem much 
frightened. Madame Elisabeth was calm, resigned to all; 
it was religion that inspired her. She said to me, looking at 
the ferocious populace : ' All those people are misguided ; I 
wish their conversion, but not their punishment.' The little 
Madame wept softly. Madame de Lamballe said to me, 
' We shall never return to the Chateau.' " 

The Tower of the Temple, that historical purgatory of the 
royalty of France, is now to be the last scene and witness of 
the virtues of Madame Elisabeth ; and it is also to witness a 
transformation in the character of its chief captive. Louis 
XVI., no longer feeble and irresolute, blundering and inert, 
becomes a patient, tranquil man, brave unto death, with 
charity to aU, a true Christian, the innocent ezpiator of the 
crimes and faults of other reigns. 



Letters of Madame foisabeth to the Marquise de Bombelles, the Marquise 
de Baigecourt, the AbM de Lubersac, and others, from 1786 to August 
8th, 1792. 

To the Marquise de Bomhdles. 

September, 1786. 

I possess in the world two friends, and they are both far 
away from me. That is too painful ; one of you must posi- 
tively return. If you do not return, I shall go to Saint-Cyr 
without you, and I shall still further avenge myself by mar- 
rying our proUgie without you. My heart is full of the hap- 
piness of that poor girl who weeps with joy — and you not 
there ! I have visited two other poor families without you, 
I pray to God without you. But I pray for you, for you need 
his grace, and I have need that he should touch you — you 
who abandon me I I do not know how it is, but I love you, 
nevertheless, tenderly. £lisab£TH-Marie. 

November 27, 1786. 

You see that I obey you, my child, for here I am again. 
You spoil me ; you write to me punctuaUy ; that gives me 
pleasure, but I am afraid it may give you a headache. I 
preach against my interests, for I am very happy when I see 
your handwriting ; I love you, but I love your health better 
than alL You say that Fontainebleau has not spoilt me ; I 
like to believe it. Perhaps you will think that rather vain- 
glorious, but I assure you, my heart [mon cosur], that I am 
very far from thinking I can remain good ; I feel I have very 
much to do to be good according to God. The world judges 

34 LIFE AND LETTERS OF [chap. ir. 

lightly ; on a mere nothing it gives us a good or a bad repu- 
tation. Not 80 with God ; he judges us internally ; and the 
more the outward imposes, the sterner he wiU be to the in- 
ward ... I have been at Montreuil since nine o'clock, the 
weather is charming. I have walked about with Baigecourt 
for an hour and three-quarters. Mme. Albert de Eioms is 
coming to dine with me, so that my letter cannot be long. 

March 15, 1787. 

You ask me, my friend, how I pass my time ; I shall an- 
swer : Bather sadly, because I see many things that grieve 
me. The famous Assembly of Notables has met. What will 
it do ? Nothing, except make known to the people the criti- 
cal situation in which we are. The king is suicere in asking 
their advice. Will they be the same in giving it ? I think 
not. I have little experience, and the tender interest I take 
in my brother alone induces me to concern myself with these 
subjects, much too serious for my nature. I do not know, 
but it seems to me they are taking a course directly the op- 
posite of that they ought to take. ... I have a presenti- 
ment that all will turn out ilL As for me, if it were not for 
my attachment to the king I would retire to Saint-Cyr. In- 
trigues fatigue me; they are not in accordance with my 
nature. I like peace and repose ; but it is not at the mo- 
ment when my brother is imf ortimate that I will separate 
from him. 

The queen is very pensive. Sometimes we are hours to- 
gether alone without her sayiog a word. She seems to fear 
me. Ah I who can take a keener interest than I in my 
brother's happiness ? 

April 9, 1787. 

M. de Galonne was dismissed yesterday ; his malversation 
was so proved that the king decided upon it ; I do not fear 


to tell you the extreme joy I feel, which is shared by every 
one. He is ordered to remain at Versailles until his suc^ 
cessor is appointed, so as to render him an account of afifairs 
and of his projects. One of my friends said to me some 
time ago that I did not like him, but that I should change 
my opinion before long. I don't know if his dismissal will 
contribute to that ; he would have to do a good many things 
before I could change in regard to him. He must feel a 
little anxious about his fate. They say his friends put a 
good face upon it ; but I believe the devil loses nothiug and 
that they are far from being satisfied. It was M. de Mont- 
morin who gave him his dismissal. I hoped the Baron de 
Breteuil would not take that upon himself; it does him 
honour not to have done so.^ 

The Assembly continues as before and with the same 
plans. The Notables talk with more freedom (though they 
have never cramped themselves in that), and I hope good 
may come of it. My brother has such good intentions, he 
desires the right so much and to make his people happy, he 
has kept himself so pure, that it is impossible Gk)d should 
not bless his good qualities with great successes. He did his 
Easter duties to-day. God will encourage him, God will 
show him the right way : I hope much. The preacher in his 
address encouraged him immensely to take counsel of his 
own heart. He was right, for my brother is very good and 
very superior to the whole Court united. 

1 The Baron de Breteuil, then minlBter of the king's hoasehold and of the 
department of Paris, had been the representative of the king towards the 
Elector of Cologne, Catherine n., Empress of Russia, GustaTus in.. King 
of Sweden, and the Emperors Joseph n. and Leopold. In the rarious 
phases of his career he had won the esteem of aU honourable men. — ^Fb. Ed. 
He was later sent by Louis XYL to negotiate measures with aU the 
European Powers for the rescue of the king and his family and the restora- 
tion of the monarchy. See Diary and Corr. of Count Fersen, of the 
present Hist. Series. — Tx. 

36 LIFE AND LBTTEB8 OF [chap. u. 

I am at Montreuil since midday. I have been to vespers 
in the pansh church. They were quite as long as they were 
last year, and your dear vicar sang the JUii in a manner 
quite as agreeabla Des Escars expected to burst out laugh- 
ing, and I the same. 

I am in despair at the sacrifice you make me of your mon- 
key, and all the more because I cannot keep it; my Aunt 
Victoire has a dread of those animals and would be angry if 
I had one. So, my heart, in spite of all its graces and of the 
hand that gives it to me, I must relinquish it. If you like, 
I will send it back to you ; if not, I will give it to M. de 
Gu^m^n^e. I am in despair, I feel it is very chmrlish, that 
it wfll vex you very much, and so I am all the more sorry. 
What consoles me is that you would have had to get rid of 
it soon on account of your children, because it might become 

Your philosophy enchants me, my heart; you will be 
happier, and you know how I desired you to be that. I do 

not understand why you say that M. de C [Mar^chal de 

Castries] is a bad politician ; they seem to me well satisfied 
with him ; he has done rather fine thmgs, and M. de S^gur 
has just committed the most egregious blimder in accom- 
panying the Empress Catherine on her journey to the Crimea. 
She is terribly restless, that good lady, which displeases me 
much. I am a partisan of repose.^ 

June 26, 17S7. 

The queen is very kind to me just now; we are going 
together to Saint-Cyr, which she calls my cradla She calls 
Montreuil my little Trianon. I have been to hers the last 
few days with her, without any consequences, and there was 
no attention she did not show me. She prepared for me one 

^ See the account of this jonmey in the Memoirs of the Prince de Ligne 
vol. Y. of thiB Hist. Series. — Tb. 


of tixose surprises in which she excels; but what we did most 
was to weep over the death of mj poor little niece p^adame 
Sophie de France, daughter of Louis XYI., who died an 
infantj. • . • 

I am in a state of endiantment at the enormous gratuity 
they have given you. I am afraid the king wiU ruin himself 
with such liberalities. If I were your' husband I would leave 
it with M. d'Harvelay to prove to M. de Vergexmes that you 
demand more because you have an actual need of it; let 
him see it is to pay your debts for the embassy, and that as 
he gives you so little on account, when you get more you will 
have to employ it in the same way. I began by reading 
M. de Yeigennes' letter first, thinking I was to see superb 
things, and I was rather shocked. However, after reflecting 
upon it well, I believe it is not ill-will on his part, but being 
obliged to give gratuities for the fStes, he is hampered and is 
forced to diminish this one. 

Adieu, my heart I hope your medicine will do you good. 
Tiy to calm yoursell 

June 6, 1788. 

The king returns upon his steps, just as our grandfather 
did. . • . It seems to me that government is like education. 
We should not say I wUl until we are sure of being right. 
But once said, there should be no yielding of what has been 

I think that my sister-in-law would act thus; but she does 
not yet know the soul of my brother, who fears always to 
make a mistake, and who, his first impulse over, is tormented 
by the dread of doing injustice. You will see that the parlia- 
ment will be recalled within six months, and with it Necker 
and the States-General ; that is an evil we shall not escape, 
and I wish they had been convoked a year ago that we might 
have them over and done with. Instead of that everybody 

38 LIFE AND LETTERS 07 [gkap. ii. 

wrangles and all aie getting embittered. What the king 
does from clemency they will say he does from f ear^ for they 
will not do him the justice he deserves. As for me, who 
read his hearty I know well that all his thoughts are for 
the welfare of his people. But he would make that more 
sure by isolating himself less from his nobles. He is advised 
to the contrary. Grod grant he may never repent it 1 I dare 
not speak to him openly about many things that I see and that 
he does not suspect because his soul is so fine that intrigue 
is foreign to it Ah I why cannot I get away and live as I 

To Mile. Marie de Caiisafis} 

March, 1780. 

Yes, certainly, my heart, I will write to you before you 
enter the novitiate ; but I hope that you will not be forbidden 
to receive letters afterwards. It is true that we shall be 
hampered by the inspection of a mistress, but that will not 
prevent me from saying to you what I think. You will per- 
haps be astonished, my heart, when I tell you that in spite 
of all the reflections, consultations, and tests that you have 
made, I am not yet sufficiently convinced of the solidity 
and reality of your vocation to escape a fear that you have 
not reflected duly. In the first place, my heart, we cannot 
know whether a vocation is really the work of God until, 
with a desire to follow his will, we have nevertheless com- 
bated, in good faith, the inclination which leads us to con- 
secrate ourselves to him; otherwise, we run the risk of 
deceiving ourselves, and of following a transient fervour that 
is often only a need of the heart which, having no objects of 
attachment, thinks to save itself from the danger of forming 

1 The third daughter of Mme. de Caosans, and next younger Bister of 
Mme. de Raigecourt. The Beyolution, which broke up the conrenta, 
preyented her from becoming a nun. — Tx. 


any that Heaven may disapprove by consecrating itself to 
God. That motive is praiseworthy, but it is not sufficient; 
it comes from passion, it comes from the desire and need of 
the heart to form a tie which shall fill it, for the moment, 
wholly. But, I ask you, my heart, wiU God approve of that 
offering ? can he be touched by the sacrifice of a soul that 
gives itself to him only to rid itself of responsibility ? You 
know that in order to make any vow of any kind we must 
have a free, reflectiug will, devoid of all species of passion ; 
it is the same in making the religious vows, and even more 
essential The world is odious to you ; but is that disgust 
or regret ? Do not think that if it is the latter your vocation 
is true or natural No, my heart. Heaven sent you a tempta- 
tion ; you ought to bear it, and not take a resolution to con- 
secrate yourself to God until it has passed. 

Secondly, my heart, we must have our minds humbled 
before taking the engagements you wish to take. This is 
the essential thing, the true vocation. All that concerns the 
body costs little, one can get used to that ; but not so with 
all that belongs to the mind and heart. . . . 

If d'Ampmie [her younger sister] is not married within 
three years, and is obliged to go to her Chapter, can you 
trust to her eighteen years and believe that she will always 
lead a virtuous and decorous life, that she will never need 
the counsel of a friend, of a sister who stands in place of her 
mother, and for whom she has all the feelings of a daughter ? 
Do you think that in abandoning her to herself you fulfil 
the most sacred duty you have ever had to fulfil, — that to a 
dying mother who reUed upon you, who chose you as the 
one most fitted to replace her, a mother who would certainly 
not have abandoned her children to the seductions of the 
world that she might yield to a taste for retreat and devotion 
which she would never have thought incumbent upon her ? 

40 LIFE AND LETTEBS OF [chap. ii. 

No, my heart, it will be impossible for me to think that 
you fulfil your duty, that you accomplish the will of God by 
consecrating yourself to him at this time. In the name of 
that God you seek to serve in the most perfect manner, con- 
sult with others once more; but, my heart, let it be with 
more enlightened persons, persons who have no interests 
either for or against the course you wish to take ; explain to 
them your position ; let yourself be examined id good faith ; 
you would be as wrong to exaggerate your desire as to 
conceal it. . . . 

Beassure me, my heart, by telling me the tests to which you 
have put yoursell I do not speak of those of the body; 
those are absolutely null to me because they belong to mere 
habits ; but have you struggled against your vocation ? have 
you felt perfectly calm and free from all pains of mind ? are 
you sure it is not from excitement that you give yourself to 
God? ... Do not suppose, my heart, that a convent is 
exempt from evils in the eyes of a nun ; the more perfect she 
may be, the more she will want to find the same sentiments 
iQ others, and you wUl not be safe from that temptation, 
for, I admit, it is one. There are very few convents in 
which charity reigns sufficiently for that fault to be un- 
known there. 

Nevertheless, my heart, in whatever position you find 
yourself, rely upon my friendship and the keen iaterest that 
I feel in you, and speak to me with confidence of all that 
touches you. I dare to say that I deserve it, because of die 
true feelings that I have for you, and the tender interest 
inspired iq me by all the children of your honoured and 
loving mother. I kiss you and love you with all my heart. 
I ask of you the favour not to be satisfied by reading my 
letter once. 


To the Marquise de BomleUes. 

May 29, 1780. 

My heart is so full of the king's troubles that I cannot 
write to you of other things. All goes worse than ever. 
The king alone seems satisfied with the turn that thiogs are 
taking. Few sovereigns in his place would be ; but he has 
about it all a manner of seeing which is too lucky for him. 
The deputies, victims of their passions, of their weakness, or 
of seduction, are rushing to their ruin, and that of the throne 
and the whole kingdom. If at this moment the king has 
not the necessary sternness to cut off at least three heads, all 
is lost 

I do not ask you to return ; you might find the roads all 
bloody. As for me, I have sworn not to leave my brother, 
and I shall keep my oath. 

YBB8AILLE8, J11I7 15, 1780. 

How kind you are, my heart! All the dreadful news 
of yesterday [storming and destruction of the Bastille by 
the populace] did not make me weep, but your letter, bring- 
ing consolation into my heart through the friendship you 
show me, made me shed many tears. It will be sad for me 
to go without you. I do not know if the king will leave 
Versailles. I will do what you wish if there is a question of 
it I do not know what I desire as to that God knows the 
best course to take. We have a pious man at the head of 
the Ck)uncil [Baron de Breteuil] and perhaps he will en- 
lighten it Pray much, my heart ; spare yourself, take care 
of yourself, do not trouble your milk. You would do wrong 
I think, to go out ; therefore, my dear, I make the sacrifice 
of seeing you. Be convinced of how much it costs my heart. 
I love you, dear, more than I can telL At all times, in all 
moments I shall think the same. 

42 LIFE AND LETTERS OF [chap. ii. 

I hope the evil is not as great as they think it What 
makes me believe this is the calmness at Versailles. It was 
not very certain yesterday that M. de Laimay was hanged ; 
they had mistaken another man for him in the course of the 
day. I will attach myself, as you advise, to the chariot of 
Monsieur, but I think its wheels are worthless. I don't 
know why it is, but I am always ready to hope. Do not 
imitate me ; it is better to fear without reason than to hope 
without it ; the moment when the eyes open is less painfuL 

PiJtiB, October 8, 1789. 

My date alone will tell you to what a point our misfortunes 
have come. We have left the cradle of our childhood — 
what am I saying ? left I we were torn from it. What a jour- 
ney ! what sights ! Never, never will they be effaced from 
my memory. . . . What is certain is that we are prisoners 
here ; my brother does not believe it, but time will prove it to 
him. Our friends are here ; they think as I do that we are 

To the AbhS de lAibersac. 

October 16, 1789. 

I cannot resist, monsieur, the desire to give you news of 
me. I know the interest that you are kind enough to feel, 
and I doubt not it will bring me help. Believe that in the 
midst of the trouble cmd horror that pursued us I thought of 
you, of the pain you would feel, and the sight of your hand- 
writing has brought me consolation. Ah 1 monsieur, what 
days were those of Monday and Tuesday [5th and 6th of 
October] ! But they ended better than the cruelties that 
took place during the night could have made us expect As 
soon as we entered Paris we began to feel hope in spite of 
the dreadful cries that we heard. But those of the people 
who surrounded our carriage were better. The queen, who 


has inciedible courage^ b^ins to be better liked by the 
people. I hope that with time and ateadily sustained con- 
duct we may recover the affection of the Parisians^ who have 
only been misled. 

But the men of Versailles^ monsieur ! Did you ever know 
a more frightful ingratitude ? No, I think that Grod in his 
anger has peopled that town with monsters from helL How 
much time will be needed to make them conscious of their 
crimes ! If I were king, I should need much to make me 
believe in their repentanca How ungrateful to an honest 
man ! WiU you believe, monsieur, that our misfortunes, &ir 
from bringing me to God, give me a positive disgust for all 
that is prayer. Ask of Heaven for me the grace not to aban- 
don it wholly. I ask of you this favour ; and also, preach to 
me a little, I beg of you ; you know the confidence that I 
have in you. Pray also that all the reverses of France 
may bring back to their better selves those who have con- 
tributed to them by their irreligion. Adieu, monsieur; 
believe in the esteem I have for you, and the regiet I feel at 
your being so fax away from ma 

To the Marquise de BorabdUs. 

December 8, 1789. 

I am very glad, Mademoiselle Bombelinette, that you 
have received my letter, as it gives you pleasure, and I am 
angry with it for being so long on the way. You have no 
idea what an uproar there has been to-day at the Assembly. 
We heard the shouts in passing along the terrace of the 
Feuillants. It was horrible. They wanted to rescind a 
decree passed Saturday ; I hope they will not do it, for the 
decree seems to me veiy reasonable. You wiU see it all in 
the newspapers. 

I have not made it a point of courage to lefrain from 

44 LIFE AUD LETTBRS OF [ohat. xi. 

speakii^ to 70a of MontieiiiL Yoa judge me, my heart, too 
favoufably. Apparently I was not thinking of it when I 
wrote to yoiL I often have news of it Jacques comes daily 
to bring my cream. Fleuiy, Coupiy, Marie, and Mme. du 
Coudray come to see me from time to time. They all seem 
to love me still; and M. Huret — I forgot him — is not very 
bad. Now, about the house. The salon was being furnished 
when I left it; it promised to be very pleasant Jacques 
is in his new lodging. Mme. Jacques is pregnant; so are 
all my cows ; a calf has just been bom. The bens I will 
not say much about, because I have rather neglected to 
inquire for them. I don't know if you saw my little cabi- 
net after it was finished. It is very pretty. My lihraxy 
is almost finished.^ As for the chapel, Corille is woiMng 
there all alone; you can imagine how fast it goes on! It 
is out of charity to him that I let him continue to put on 
a little plaster ; as he is quite alone it cannot be called an 
expense. I am grieved not to go there as you can easily 
believe; but horses are to me a still greater privation. 
However, I think as little as I can about it ; thou^ I feel 
that as my blood grows calmer, that particular privation 
makes itself more and more felt ; but I shall have all the 
more pleasure when I can satisfy that taste. 

And that poor Saint-Cyr, ah I how unfortunate it is ! Do 
you remember Croisard, the son of my sister's wardrobe 
woman? Well, he is to-day attached to my steps in the 
quality of captain of the guard. I say attached, because 
the guards never quit us more than the shadow of our 
bodies. You need not think it aimoys me. As my move- 
ments are not varied, I do not care. After all, I can walk 
in the garden as much as I like. To-day I walked a full 

^ See Appendix. 

ino] MADAME Elisabeth de france 46 

February 20, 1790. 

Ton will only have a line from me to-day, my poor, 
Bombe ; I was told too late of an opportimity, and besides, 
my head and heart are so full of what happened yesterday 
diat I have no possibility of thinking of anything else. 
Poor M. de Favras was hanged yesterday. I hope that his 
blood may not fall back upon his judges. No one (except 
the populace, and that class of beings to whom we must 
not give the name of men — it would be to degrade human- 
ity) understands why he was condemned. He had the 
imprudence to wish to serve his king ; that was his crime. 
I hope that this imjust execution will have the effect of 
persecutions, and that from his ashes will arise men who still 
love their country, and will avenge it on the traitors who 
are deceiving it. I hope also that Heaven, in favour of 
the courage he showed during the four hours he was kept 
at the Hdtel-de-Yille before his execution [when he was 
tortured and insulted], will have pardoned him his sins. 
Pray to Grod for him, my heart; you cannot do a better 

The Assembly is still the same; the monsters are the 
masters. The king — can you believe it ? — is not to have 
the necessary executive power to keep him from being 
absolutely nidi in his kingdom. For the last four days 
they have discussed a law to pacify the disturbances, but 
they have not ceased to busy themselves about other things 
tai less essential to the happiness of men. Well, God will 
reward the good in heaven, and punish those who deceive 
the people. The king, and others, from the integrity of 
their own natures, cannot bring themselves to see the evil 
such as it is. 

Adieu, my little one; I am well; I love you much; be 
the- same» for love of your princess, and let us hope for 

46 LIFE AND LETTERS OP [chap, u 

happier days. Ah 1 how we shall enjoy them. I kiss your 
^tde children with all my heart 

You know the rules just made for monks and nuns. Say 
nothing to any one, but I think many men, and even nuns 
will leave their convents. I hope that Saint-Cyr will 
undeigo no change ; but its fate is not yet decided. 

March 1, 1790. 

Since the king has taken that step [his appearance before 
the Constituent Assembly Feb. 4, 1790], a step which puts 
him, they say, at the head of the Bevolution, and which, to 
my mind, takes from him the remains of the crown that he 
still had, the Assembly has not once thought of doing any- 
thing for him. Madness follows madness, cmd good will 
certainly never come of it. . . . If we had known how to 
profit by occasions, believe me, we could have done welL 
But it was necessary to have firmness, it was necessary to 
face danger ; we should have come out conquerors. ... I 
consider civil war as necessary. In the first place, I think 
it already exists ; because, every time a kingdom is divided 
into two parties, every time the weaker party can only save 
its life by letting itself be despoiled, it is impossible, I think, 
not to caU. that civil war. Moreover, anarchy never can end 
without it ; the longer it is delayed, the more blood will be 
shed. That is my principle ; and if I were king it would be 
my guide ; and perhaps it would avert great evils. But as, God 
be thanked, I do not govern, I content myself, while approv- 
ing my brother's projects, with telling him incessantly that 
he cannot be too cautious and that he ought to risk nothing. 

I am not surprised that the step he took on the 4th of Feb- 
ruary has done him great harm in the eyes of foreigners. I 
hope, nevertheless, that it has not discouraged our allies, and 
that they will at last take pity on us. Our stay here is a 


great injury to our prospects. I would give all the world to 
be out of Paris. It will be very difficult, but still, I hope it 
may come about. Though I thought for a moment that we 
did right in coming to Paris, I have long changed my mind. 
If we had known, my heart, how to profit by that moment, 
be sure that we could then have done great good. But it 
needed firmness, it needed not to fear that the provinces 
would rise against the capital; it needed that we should 
face dangers; had we done so, we should have issued 

May 18, 1790. 

Ton will have seen by the public papers, my dear child, 
that there has been some question of your husband in the 
Assembly, but you will also have seen that they would not 
even listen to M. de Lameth. So, my heart, you need not 
be imeasy. Some one said, apropos of M. de Lameth's 
speech, that he apparently feared that your husband would 
make Venice aristocratic, and so, wanted to get him away. 
I thought that charming. Your mother, who assuredly is 
not cold as to your interests, is not at all troubled by what 
took place. Therefore, my heart, let the storm growl, and do 
not worry. 

At last we are let out of our den. The king is to ride out 
on horseback to-day for the third time ; and I have been out 
once. I was not very tired, and I hope to go again on Fri- 
day. I am going this morning to Bellevue. I want to see 
an English garden and I am going for that. During that 
time the Assembly will probably be busy in taking from the 
king the right to wear his crown, which is about all that is 
left to him. 

June 27, 1790. 

It is long since I have written to you, my little Bombeli- 
nette ; so I do it to-night in advance, not to be taken short 

48 LIFE AND LETTERS OF [crap. ii. 

by the post, which often happens to those who have a taste 
for sacred idleness. I shall not talk to you about the decrees 
that are issued daily, not even of the one put forth on a ce> 
tain Saturday [abolition of titles of nobility]. It does not 
grieve the persons it attacks, but it does afSict the malevolent 
and those who issued it, because in all societies it has been 
made a subject of much diversion. As for me, I expect to 
call myself Mademoiselle Capet, or Hugues, or Robert, for 
I don't think I shall be allowed to take my real name, — de 
Franca AU this amuses me much, and if those gentlemen 
would issue only such decrees as that, I would add love to 
the profound respect I already feel for them. 

You will think my style a little frivolous, considering the 
circumstances, but as there is no counteivrevolution in it, I 
can be forgiven. Far from thinking of counter-revolutions 
we are about to rejoice (two weeks hence) with all the mili- 
tia of the kingdom and celebrate the famous days of July 14 
and 15, of which you may perhaps have heard. They are 
making ready the Champs de Mars, which can contain, they 
say, six hundred thousand souls. I hope for their health 
and mine, that it will not be as hot as it is this week, other- 
wise, with the liking that I have for heat, I believe I should 
explode. Pardon this nonsense; but I was so suffocated 
last week, at the review and in my own little room, that 
I am still dazed. Besides, one must laugh a little, it does 
one good. Mme. d'Aumale always told me, when I was a 
child, to laugh, because it dilated the lungs. 

I finish my letter at Saint-Cloud; here I am, established 
in the garden, with my desk and a book in my hand, 
and here I get' patience and strength for the rest that I 
have to do. Adieu; I love and kiss you with all my 
heart. Have you weaned your little monster, and how are 


July 10, 1700. 

I received your letter by the gentleman who has re- 
turned to Venice, but. too late to answer it by him. We 
touch, my dear child, as the song says, the crucial moment 
of the Federation. It will take place Wednesday, and I 
am convinced that nothing very grievous will happen. 
The Due d'Orl&ms is not yet here ; perhaps he will come 
to-night or to-morrow; perhaps he will not come at alL 
I am of opinion that it is of no consequence. He has 
fallen into such contempt that his presence will cause 
but little excitement. The Assembly seems decidedly sepa- 
rated into two parties : that of M. de la Fayette, and that of 
the Due d'Orl^ems formerly called that of the Lameths. I 
say this because the public believes it ; but, I myself am of 
opinion that they are not as ill together as they want it to 
appear. Whether that is so, or is not so, it seems that 
M. de la Fayette's party is much the more considerable ; 
and that ought to be a good thing, because he is less 
sanguinary, and seems to wish to serve the king by con- 
solidating the immortsd work to which Target gave birth 
February 4, of this year 90. All the reflections you make 
on the stay of the king [in Paris] are very just; I have 
long been convinced of it. But nothing of all that will 
happen, unless Heaven takes part therein. Pray for that 
strongly, for we need it much. 

To the Marquise de Baigecouri, 

July 20, 1790. 

Do not come here, my heart; all is calm, but you are 
better in the country ; I do not need you for the week's ser- 
vice ; your husband wishes you to stay with your sister-in- 
law ; therefore as a submissive wife, do not stir. 

Paris was in great disturbance yesterday, but to-night all is 


50 LIFE AND LETTERS OF [chap. ii. 

very quiet The States-General are still issuing decrees that 
have not common-sense. I am anxious lest the little line I 
wrote you may bring you back ; reassure me and tell me you 
are still at Marseille [the ch^tteau de Marseille in Ficardy]. 
Be at ease about your husband, your brother, and aU who 
are dear to you ; they run no risks, and will run nona Adieu ; 
I kiss you with all my heart ; I am very tranquil, and you 
can be so entirely. 

To the Marquise de Montiers} 

Aufinut ao, 1790. 

I have received your letter, my dear child; it touched 
me very much ; I have never doubted your feelings for me, 
but the signs you show of it give me great pleasure. It 
would have been iofinitely agreeable to me to have seen you 
again this autumn, but I feel the position of your husbcuid 
and I consent strongly to the plan he has formed of spending 
the winter in foreign countries. I will even own that your 
position makes me desire it ; this country is tranquil, but 
from one moment to another it may be so no longer. You 
are too excitable to allow of your confinement in a place 
where from day to day an uprising is to be feared; your 
health could not resist it ; moreover, with your disposition, 
recovery from confinement would be much more serious. 
Use all these reflections to aid you, my heart, in making 
the sacrifice that your husband's fortune and his position 
oblige you to make. If telling you that I approve of it can 

^ The Marquise des Montiers (MUe. de la Briffe) had grown np from 
childhood with the princess ; she was gaj, yivacioas, and full of imagina- 
tion. Madame Elisabeth's letters to her take an almost maternal tone in 
adrising, warning, and directing " my dear Demon/' as she often called 
her. These friends were all Madame Elisabeth's ladies-in-waiting, and aU 
were anxious to return to her in her cruel isolation ; but although she was 
so dependent herself on friendship she would not, /or their actkea, let them 
come to her. — Tb. 


make you bear it better, I shall repeat it to you iacessantly. 
But, my heart) what I camiot repeat to you too often, what I 
wish could be engraved upon your heart and mind, is that this 
is a decisive moment for your happiness and your reputation. 
You are about to be trusted to yourself in a foreign country, 
wheje you can receive no counsel but your own. Perhaps 
you will meet there Parisian men whose reputations are not 
very good ; it is difficult in a foreign country not to receive 
one's compatriots, but do so with such prudence and regulate 
your actions with so much reason that no one can make talk 
about you. 

Above all, my heart, seek to please your husband. Though 
you have never spoken to me about him, I know enough of 
him to know that he has good qualities, though he may also 
have some that do not please you so welL Make to yourself 
a law not to dwell upon those, and above all, not to let any 
one speak of them to you ; you owe this to him, and you owe 
it to yourself. Try to fix his heart. If you possess it, you 
will always be happy. Make his house agreeable to him ; 
let him find in it a wife eager to give him pleasure, 
interested in her duties and her children, and you will 
gain his confidence. If you once have that, you can do, 
with the intelligence that Heaven has given you and a 
little skill, all that you wish. But, dear child, above all 
sanctify your good qualities by loving God; practise your 
religion; you will find strength in that, a resource in all 
your troubles, and consolations that it alone can give. 
Ah I is there a happiness greater than that of being well 
with one's conscience ? Preserve it, that happiness,- and 
you will see that the tortures of life are little, indeed, com-< 
pared to the tortures of those who give themselves up to all 
the passions. 

Do not let the piety of your mother-in-law disgust you. 

52 LIFE Ain>. LETTERS OF [chap. il. 

These are peisons to whom.Heaven has not giyem the grace 
of knowing, it in its true light; pray to. Heaven to. eoljgjtiten 
her. I am gla4 that your husband sees her def ects, but I 
should be sorry if by jesting or otherwise, you made him re- 
mark upon them. Toigiye, my dear hearty all this prating ; 
but I love you too well pot to say to you that which I think 
will be. useful to your happiness. You tell me with the 
amiability of which you are so capable^ that if you a^ worth 
anything. in life you owe it to me; take care, that is. encoux- 
. aging me to tire you again. 

Adieu, my heart ; write me as often as you have the desire 
to do so. If you haye need to open your heart, open it to 
me, and believe that. you cannot do so to any one who loves 
you more tenderly than L 

I am forgetting to reply about M. d'A. Not being ab],e« 
in view of the present position of my affairs to do anything 
for him just now, I desire you to tell the person who spoke 
to you to. send you word if he should be in a more critical . 
position ; then, I will do what I possibly can. Say many 
things from me to your mother-in-law, to whom I will, 
write before long. 

To the Marquise de JRaigeeourt 

Good-morning, my poor Eaigecourt ; here we are back at 
Saint-Cloud to my great satisfaction ; Paris is fine, but in 
perspective ; here I have the happiuess of seeing as mi^ch of 
it as I wish ; indeed, in my little garden I can scarcely see 
more than the sky. I no longer hear those viUanous criers 
who, of late, not content with standing at the gates of the 
Tuileries, have roamed the gardens, that no one might fail to 
hear their infamies. 

For the rest, if you want news of my little health J shall 


tell 70U that I still have torpor in my legs.^ Still, if I may 
trust the symptoms of that horrid malady, I fancy the cure 
is at hand. But I have already been mistaken so many 
times, that I dare not flatter myself much ; in fact, sincerely, 
I do not believe in it. Perhaps, if I had courage, I might 
even say I do not desire it ; but you know that I am weak, 
and that I dread to expose myself to great pain. . . . 

I am very impatient to get news of you, to know you are 
settled ; I wish I could say happy, but that, I feel, is very 
difficult [Mme. de Saigecourt had just lost a little son]. 
Fortunately, you can give yourself up to devotion. That 
will be your concK>lation, your strength. Do not burden 
your ^irit with scruples ; that would insult God who has 
done Jim so many &tvotnrs, and who deserves that you should 
go to him with the confidence of a child. Make use of the 
instructions you have received and of your rector's counsels 
to qmet the over^ensitiveness of your feelings towards God. 
. . . Yes, ydur soul is too sensitive: a trifle hurts it; 
God is m<n:e indulgent to his creatures ; he knows our weak- 
ness> but in spite of it, he wants to crown us with all his 
favours, and, in return for so much kindness he asks for our 
confidence and our complete abandonment to his will Ah I 
how, at this present moment do we need to repeat to our- 
selves that truth I You will often need to have recourse to 
him to fortify yourself ; do not therefore put yourself in a 
position to be deprived of the divine nourishment This is 
a real temptation which you ought to fight at its birth ; if 
you let it make, progress you will be veiy unhappy, you 

^^ThiB^ezpr^BBlon, and others'of the same kind, Madame Elisabeth nsei 
to express her wish that the king would leave Paris, the hopes he gave her 
of it, and the efforts made to prevent it Her letters to Madame de Raige- 
conr^ who was in France, where corresi^ondence mi^t he dangerons, seem 
less free than' tbOse to Madame de Bombelles, which #ent probably in tiie 
ambassador's bag, or by private hand. — Tb. 

54 LIFE AND LETTERS OF [chap. ii. 

will ofifend God ceaselessly. Here am I preaching like the 
peasant to his priest 1 but when the public news worries me 
I fling myself into sermonizing. 

October 24, 1790. 

I have just received your second letter. Make ready to 
receive a reproach in my style. TeU me why you think 
yourself obliged to be always in violent states? That is 
bad judgment, my dear child. Tou will make yourself ill, 
and give your child an inevitable tendency towards melan- 
choly. And why ? because you are not in Paris or at Baige- 
court, and because all the stories people tell you seem truths 
in your eyes. For pity's sake, do not do so. Put into the 
hands of Providence the fate of those who interest you, and 
rub your eyes very hard to prevent their seeing black ! ^ 

As for news, I only know that infamous tales are still 
told of the queen. Among others, they say there is an 
intrigue with Mir [abeau], and that it is he who advises the 
king I My patient [the king] still has stiffness of the legs, 
and I am afraid it will attack the joints and there will be 
no cure for it. As for me, I submit myself to the orders of 
Providence. To each day its own evil I shall await the 
last moment to fall into despair, and in that moment I hope 
I shall do nothing. . . . We are going to-morrow, H. 
and I, to Saint-Cyr, to feed a little on that celestial iood, 
which does me much good. 

NoYember 3, 1790. 

Well, my poor Bage, are you getting accustomed to the 
life you lead ? The late master of this place is being perse- 
cuted by his creditors who will end by killing all his friends 

1 Madame Elisabeth had exacted that Mme. de Baigecourt, who was 
pregnant, should leare Paris, erents becoming more and more alarming. 
Mme. de R. fell into a sort of despair at the separation, and wanted to be 
allowed to return to Madame Elisabeth at any cost ~ Fs. E0. 


with grief. Nothing that happens can decide him to part 
from his property: offers are made on all sides; nothing 
comes of them. What is to be done? we must pray to 
Providence to be with him. 

Here we are back in Paris ; if we knew how to profit by 
it I would not complain ; but, as you know, the ch&teau of 
the Tuileries will be our habitual promenade. Well, as Grod 
wills ; if I thought of myself only I do not know what I 
should prefer. Here I am more conveniently placed for my 
little devotions : but for walks and the gaiety of the place, 
Saint-Cloud is preferable; and then the neighbourhood of 
Saint-Cyr. On the other hand, the evenings were very long; 
you know I have a horror of lights, or rather they make me 
so sleepy that I caonot read long at a time. So on the 
whole I conclude that God arranges all for the best, and 
that I ought to be very glad to be here. 

December 1, 1790. 

Mon Dieu, my poor Baigecourt, what extraordinary thing 
have they been telling you ? I puzzle my head to guess, and 
cannot do so. Nothing has happened here. We are still in 
perfect tranquillity, and I cannot conceive what you mean. 

I have made a mistake of twenty-four hours as to the 
post-day, which is the reason this letter did not go by the 
last courier. You now know the decree about the clergy, 
and I can see from here, all that you are saying, all that you 
are thinking, how you are wringing your arms, and shutting 
your eyes, and sajdng, " Ah ! God wills it ; it is well, it is 
well, we must submit ; " and then you do not submit any 
more than others. Do not go and think you do because you 
are so resigned at the first moment ; my Baigecourt's head 
will heat; this reflection will agitate her, that fear will 
torture her ; such a person runs risks, what will happen to 

56 LIFE AND LETTERS OF [cHij>. u. 

him ? will they force him to act against his duty and his 
conscience ? etc., etc. And then, behold my Baigecourt be- 
side herself, all the whUe saying : ** My God, I offer you sub- 
mission." Have the goodness, mademoiselle, not to torture 
yourself in that way. M. de Condorcet has decided that the 
Church is not to be persecuted because it would make the 
clergy interesting ; and that, he says, would do an infinite 
injury to the Constitution. Therefore, my heart, no martyr- 
dom, thank God, for I own that I have no fancy for that sort 
of death. 

December SO, 1790. 

I see persecution coming, being in mortal anguish at the 
acceptance that the king has just given. God reserved us this 
blow ; may it be the last, and may he not suffer that schism 
be established : that is all I ask. But if the days of persecu- 
tion do return, ah ! I should ask of God to take me from 
this world, for I do not feel within me the courage to bear 
them. This acceptance [of the decree against the clergy] 
was given on Saint Stephen's day ; apparently that blessed 
martyr is now to be our model Well, as you know, I am 
• not Itfraid of stones; so that suits me. They say that seven 
of the rectors of Paris have taken the oath. I did not think 
the number would be so large. AU this has a veiy bad 
effect on my soul ; far from rendering me devout, it takes 
away from me all hope that God's anger will be appeased 
Tour rector decides to follow the law of the Gospel and not 
the one just made. I am told that a member of the Com- 
mime, wanting to persuade the rector of Sainte-Marguerite, 
said to him that the esteem felt for him, the .preponderance 
that he had in the world, would do much to restore peace by 
ili:fluencing minds. To which he answered, *' Monsieur, the 
reasons that you give me are the very ones that oblige me to 
refuse the oath and not act against my conscience." 


May God not abandon us wholly ; it is to that we must 
limit our hopes. I have no taste for martyrdom ; but I feel 
that I should be very glad to have the certainty of suffering 
it rather than abandon one iota of my faith. I hope that if I 
am destined to it, God will give me strength. He is so good, 
so good I he is a Father, so concerned for the true welfare of 
lus children that we ought to have all confidence in him. 
Were you not touched on the Epiphany with God's goodness 
in calling the Gentiles to him at that moment ? Well, we 
are the Gentiles. Let us thank him well ; let us be faithful 
to our faith ; let us not lose from sight what we owe to him ; 
and as to all the rest, let us abandon ourselves to him with 
true filial confidence. 

Febmary 15, 1791. 

I am grieved at the unnecessary fear that M. de B. has 
caused yoiL We are still far from all those evils he has put 
into your head. ... I am sorry to be so far from you and to 
be unable to talk as I would like to do ; but, my heart, calm 
youi^elf. I know that that seems difficult, but it is neces- 
sary. You excite your blood ; you make yourself more un- 
happy than you need be : all that, my heart, is not in the 
order of Providence. We must submit to God's decrees, and 
that submission must bring calmness. Otherwise, it is on 
our lips only, not in our heart. When Jesus Christ was be- 
trayed, abandoned, it was only his heart which suffered from 
those outrages ; his exterior was calm, and proved that God 
was really in him. We ought to imitate him, and God ought 
to be in us. Therefore, calm yourself, submit, and adore in 
peace the decrees of Providence, without casting your eyes 
upon a future which is dreadful to whose sees with human 
eyes alone. Happily, you are not in that case; God has 
crowned you with so many favours that you will apply your 
virtue to wait patiently for the end of his wrath. 

58 LIFE AND LETTERS OF [chjlp. ii. 

As for me, I am not in your condition. I wUl not say that 
yirtue is the cause of this ; but in the midst of many troubles 
and anxieties, I am more within reach of consolations ; I am 
calm, and I hope for a happy eternity. ... As for what you 
say of me, believe, my heart, that I shall never fail in honour, 
and that I shall always know how to fulfil the obligations 
that my principles, my position, and my reputation impose 
upon me. I hope that God will give me the light necessary 
to guide me wisely, and to keep me from wandering from the 
path that he marks out for me. But to judge of all that, my 
heart, others must be near me. From a distance, a chival- 
rous act appears enchanting ; seen near-by it is often found to 
be an act of vexation, or of some other feeling not worth 
more in the eyes of t^e wise and good. 

March 2, 1791. 

I have received your little letter. I do not think that the 
person of whom you speak ever had the intention towards 
others that is attributed to her. She has defects, but I never 
knew her to have that one. If D. [d'Artois] would break off 
his alliance with Calonne, by travelling in another direc- 
tion, that would give pleasure, I am sura As for me, I de- 
sire it eagerly for the good of one I love so weU, and for 
whom, I own to you, I dread the intimacy with Calonne. 
Do not say this to the man you have seen, but you can send 
word of it under the greatest secrecy, to her whose ideas you 
approve, even for interested persons ; I cannot myself enter 
into any explanation with them, and you would do me a 
kindness to take charge of this. 

March 18, 1791. 

I profit by the departure of M. de Chamisot to teU you 
many things. I am infinitely uneasy at the course my 
brother is about to take. I believe that the wise counsels 
that have been given him are not to be followed. The little 


tmity, the little harmony that there is among the persons 
who ought to be bound together by an indissoluble tie, make 
me tremble. I wish I could see in all that only Grod's will; 
but I own to you that I often put 9df into it. I hope that 
M. de Firmont will make me attain^ by his counsels, to that 
necessary point of safety. Tou will see from this that it is 
he whom I have chosen to take the place of the Abb^ Madier 
in my confidence. I confessed yesterday, and I was perfects 
ly content with him. He has intelligence, gentleness, a great 
knowledge of the human heart. I hope to find in him what 
I have long lacked to enable me to make progress in piety. 
Thank Grod for me, my heart, that he has thus, by a peculiar 
stroke of his providence, led me to M. de Firmont, and ask 
him to make me faithful in executing the orders he may 
give me through that organ. 

I have no news to send you from here ; all is much the same. 
The evU-minded amuse themselves at our expense. France 
is about to perish. God alone can save it. I hope he wilL 

Extract from a letter of the AbbS Edgeworth de Firmont to 
a friend^ published m his Memoirs} 

Though a foreigner, and very little worthy to be distin- 
guished by the princess, I soon became her friend. She gave 
me her unlimited confidence, but I was known to neither the 
king nor the queen. Nevertheless, they often heard me men- 
tioned, and during the last period of their reign they several 
times expressed their surprise at the facility with which I was 
allowed to enter the palace, while around them there was 
nothing but surveillance and terror. It is a fact that I never 
saw the danger for what it really was ; and while no other 

1 He was an LriBhman, and was recommended to Madame ll^^lisabeth, for * 
her confessor, bj the Saperior of Foreign Missions. It was to him that 
Loois XYL sent in his last extremity. — Tb. 

60 LIFE AND LETT£BS OF [chaf. ii. 

ecclesiastic could appear at Court unless completely disguisedf 
I went there in open day, two or three times a week without 
changing my dress. In truth, when I remember those days 
of horror I am surprised at my courage, but I suppose that 
Providence blinded me to danger intentionally. Though my 
presence excited some murmurs among the guards, I never 
received the slightest insult from them. I continued thus 
until the fatal day of the arrest of the royal family. On the 
9th of August, 1792 — I remember it well I — Madame 
filisabeth desired to see me, and I spent the greater part of 
the morning in her room, not imagining the scene of horror 
that was then being prepared for the next day. 

To the Marquise de Baigecourt. 

April 8, 1791. 

Ah ! my heart, you ought not to complain, yourpr^nancy 
has brought you great good luck in keeping you away from 
schism and these awful divisions. ... I ask no better than 
to be godmother to your little one. If you like, I will give 
her the name of H^I^ne ; and if you will be pleased to give 
birth to her at one o'clock in the morning of the 3rd of 
May [her own birthday and hour] it will be very well, pro- 
vided it gives her a happier future than mine, where she will 
never hear of States-Generals or schisms. 

Mirabeau has taken the course of going to see in another 
world if the Revolution is approved of there. Gk)od Grod I 
what an awakening his will be. They say he saw his rector 
for an hour. He died tranquilly, believing himself poisoned ; 
though he had no symptoms of it They showed him to the 
people after his death ; many were grieved ; the aristocrats 
regret him much. For the last three months he had put 
himself on the right side, and they hoped in Mb talenta 
For my part, though very aristocratic, I cannot help regard- 


ing his death as a mercy of Providence to this country. I 
do not believe that it is by men without principles and with- 
out morals that God intends to save us. I keep this opinion 
to myself 9 as it is not policy — but I prefer a thousand times 
religious policy, and I am sure you will be of my opinion. 

I counted on haying the happiness to take the communion 
on Holy Thursday and at Easter; but circumstances will 
deprive me of it ; I fear to cause disturbance in the ch&teau, 
and have it said that my devotion was imprudent ; a thing 
that above aU others I desire, to avoid, because I have always, 
thought it should be a means to make one's self loved. The 
rumour 16 spread about Paris that the king is going to-morrow 
to high-mass in the parish church ; I cannot bring myself to 
beUeve it until he has actually been there. All-powerful 
God! what just punishment are you reserving for a people 
80 misguided ? 

May 1, 1791. 

I think the reflections you make are perfectly just ; we 
ought to guard ourselves from extremes in all opinions. I 
am far from thinking that to be attached to those I love 
forms an exclusive claim to put them in offices ... I think 
it needs perfect equality in merit, or some great distinction 
to give a veritable claim to preference. In all things I want 
justice alone to guide my choice ; I will even go further and 
say that I want it to carry the day over any desire I may 
have to prefer one person to another person, and that friend- 
ship should yield to it A disinterested friendship is the only 
kind that touches me (yours is that, and therefore I can speak 
thus freely to you). I feel that in my position (of other 
days) my influence was employed to obtain favours, and I 
lent myself to it too zealously. 

62 LIFE AND LETTERS OF [chap. ii. 

Mflj 18, 1791. 

I have received your letter ; it gives me great pleasure in 
spite of its gloom. Believe, my heart, that I am less imhappy 
than you imagine ; my vivacity sustains me, and in crucial 
moments God overwhelms me with kindness. I suffered 
much in Holy "Week, but that over, I have calmed myseli 
. . . The more the moment approaches,^ the more I become, 
like you, incredulous. Nevertheless the news my brother 
receives is satisfactory. Every one says that the principalities 
[German States] are interested for us. I desire it eagerly, 
perhaps too eagerly. ... It seems to me that our Court is 
rather badly informed as to the policy of the cabinets of 
Europe. I do not know if they distrust us, or whether we 
have flattered ourselves too much. I*own to you that if I 
see the end of this month arrive with no appearance of any- 
thing, I shall have need of great resignation to the will of 
Grod, to bear the thought of passing another summer like that 
of 1790 ; and all the more because things have grown much 
worse since then ; religion is weakened, and those who were 
attached to us have left for other coimtries where it still 
exists. What will become of this one, if Heaven be not 
merciful! . • . 

We take so few precautions that I believe we shall be here 
when the first drum beats. If things are managed wisely I 
do not think there will be much danger; but up to this mo- 
ment, I do not see clear to bid farewell to my dear coimtry. 
Nevertheless, I would not answer that it may not happen 
some day, when no one thinks of it. Lastic, Tily, S^rent, 
[her ladies] they will all be gone within a month, forced 
away by circumstances ; would that I were gone too I I am 

^ This is eridently an allusion to the approaching effort of the king to 
leaye Paris. The x>arts omitted are omitted by the French Editor, not 
by the translator. -*Tb. 


not sustained by your fine zeal ; I feel the need of addressing 
myself to some one who wiU shake (as you call it) my souL 
I see that, perfect as I thought myself, I should have had to 
spend at least some centuries in purgatoiy if Providence had 
not interfered. Happily it has sent me a confessor gentle 
without being weak, educated, enlightened, knowing me 
already better than I do myself, and who will not let me 
stay in my languor. But it is now, my little one, that I need 
prayers ; for if I do not profit by this mercy I shall have a 
terrible accoimt to render. I regret I did not know him 
earlier, and if I have to leave him soon it will be a great 

June 29, 1791.1 

I hope, my heart, that your health is good, and that it does 
not suffer from the situation of your friend. Hers is excel- 
lent; you know that her body is never conscious of the sen- 
sations of her souL This latter is not what it should be 
towards its Creator, the indulgence of God is its only hope 
of mercy. I neither can nor will I enter into details as 
to all that concerns me ; let it suffice you to know that I am 
well, that I am tranquil, that I love you with all my heart, 
and that I will write to you soon — if I can. 

July 9, 1791. 

I have just received from you the tiniest letter it is 
possible to see; but it gives me great pleasure because 
you send me word that H^l^ne and you are both weU; 
try to have it last For that reason do not think of com- 
ing here. No, my heart, the shocks to the soul are less 
dangerous where you are than in Paris. Stay there until 
minds are calmer than they are now. What should I 

1 This letter is written directly after the fatal return from Varennes. 
— Te. 

64 LIFE AND LETTERS O^ [chap. ii. 

do if anything happened here and you were here> too? 
I should be doubly unhappy, tor with your acute sensibility 
your milk would flow into your blood, and you would be 
very ilL 

Paris is tranquil in appearanca They say that minds are 
in fermentation. But, in fact, I know nothing. There is 
some excitement, — to-day the women of one of the clubs 
came to present a petition which the Assembly would not 
receive. They said they would return to-morrow. The peti- 
tion is to be read at the opening of the Assembly ; I think it 
demands that there shall be no longer a king. It seems to 
me impossible to foresee the action of the Assembly. Duport, 
Lameth, Bamave, Dandr^, La Fayette, are for the monarchy, 
but I do not know if they can carry the day. 

I have been very unhappy, my heart ; I am still, especially 
in not being able to get sure news from foreign countries. I 
was able to see my abb^ yesterday; I talked very deeply 
with him and that wound me up again. At present I suffer 
much less than you would do in my place ; therefore be tran- 
quil about me. Try to discover if a staff-officer named 
Groguelat, escaped with M. de Bouilld ; we are uneasy about 

Ah I my heart, pray for me, but especially for the salvation 
of those who may be the victims of all this. If I were sure 
about that, I should not suffer so much ; I could say to my- 
self that an eternity of happiness awaits them. Collect for 
this prayer all the soiils you know; some are more in- 
terested than others, and have certainly thought of this. 
What troubles each individual is enduring! More fortu- 
nate than some, I have this week resimied my usual way of 
life, but my soul is far from being able to take pleasure in it 
Yet I am calm, and if I did not fear more for others than 
for myself, it seems to me that I could support with ease 


my position, which, though I am not a prisoner, is never- 
theless annoying. Adieu, my heart; I love and kiss you 

To the AlbS de Ltibersac} 

July 20, 1791. 

I have just received your letter. I hope, monsieur, that 
you do not doubt the interest with which I have read it. 
Tour health seems to me less bad : but I fear that the last 
news you will have received from this country will make too 
keen an impression on yoiL More than ever is one tempted 
to say that a feeling heart is a cruel gift. Happy he who 
can be indifferent to the woes of his country, and of all that 
he holds most dear I I have experienced how desirable that 
state is for this world, and I live in the hope that the con- 
trary will be useful in the other. Nevertheless, I own to you 
that I am far from the resignation I desire to have. Aban- 
donment to the will of God is so far only on the surface of 
my mind. Still, having been for nearly a month in a violent 
state, I am beginning to return to my usual condition ; events 
seem to be calming down and that has caused it. Grod grant 
that this may last awhile and that Heaven will pity us. You 
cannot imagine how fervent souls are redoubling their zeaL 
Surely Heaven cannot be deaf to so many prayers, offered 
with such trustfulness. It is from the heart of Jesus 
that they seem to await the favours of which they are in 
need; the fervour of this devotion appears to redouble; the 
more our woes increase, the more those prayers are offered 
up. All the communities are making them ; but indeed the 
whole world ought to unite to petition Heaven. Unhappily, 

^ The Abb^ de Lubenac, being Madame Victoire's chaplain, had ac- 
companied her to Rome. Madame Elisabeth's last letter to him is dated 
(as we shall see) Julj 22, 1702. His heart clung passionately to France. 
Unable to lire away from it he returned to Paris in Augnst and perished 
in the massacres of September 2 and 3. — Tr. 


66 LIFE AND LETTERS OF [cbap. n. 

it ifi much easier to speak strongly as to this than to execute 
it ; I feel this constantly, and it angers me instead of humili- 
ating ma 

Tou ask me for my advice on the project you have formed. 
If you wish me to speak to you frankly, I shall say that I 
would not, if I were you, take the subject you have chosen. 
We are stiU too corrupted for the virtues in which many 
persons do not believe at all to have much effect. It would 
be impossible for me to give you any information upon it, for 
I possess none. But I believe that if you have the desire to 
write, all subjects of Christian morality would be well treated 
by you ; and if you are willing that I should still further 
give you my opinion I shall say that, if I were you, I would 
choose a subject strong in reason rather than in senti- 
ment; it is more suited to the situation in which your soul 
now is. Bemember, in reading this, that you wished me to 
say to you what I think ; and do not doubt, I entreat you, 
the perfect esteem I have for you, or the pleasure your 
letters give me. 

To the Marquise de JBomhelUs. 

July 10, 1791. 

I have received your little letter, dear Bombe ; I answer it 
in the same way. Though we differ in opinion the signs it 
contains of friendship give me great pleasura You know I 
am always sensitive to that, and you can imagine that 
in a moment like this friendship has become a thousand-fold 
more precious to me ... . Paris and the king are still in 
the same position ; the former tranquil, the second guarded 
and not lost sight of a moment, and so is the queen. Yester- 
day a species of camp was established under their windows, 
for fear they might jump into the garden which is hermetically 
closed and full of sentinels ; among them two or three under 


my windows. Adieu, my heart, I kiss you tenderly, as well 
as your little one. They say that the affair of the king will 
be reported on soon, and that he will then be set at liberty. 
The law against the imigrh is very severe; they forfeit 
three-fifths of their property. (TJie end of this letter is 
written in ^ white ink.'') 

No, my heart, I am very far from permitting your return. 
It is not, assuredly, that I should not be charmed to see you, 
but because I am convinced that you would not be safe here. 
Preserve yourself for happier times, when we may perhaps 
enjoy in peace the friendship that unites us. I have been 
very unhappy ; I am less so. If I saw an end to all this I 
could more easily endure what is taking place ; but now is 
the time to give ourselves wholly into the hands of God — 
a thing that indeed the Comte d'Artois ought to do. We 
ought to write to him and urge it. Our masters wish it. I 
do not think it will influence him. 

Our journey with Bamave and Potion went on most ridi- 
culously. You believe, no doubt, that we were in torture ; 
not at aU. They behaved well, especially the first, who has 
much intelligence and is not ferocious as people say. I 
b^an by showing them frankly my opinion as to their 
actions, and after that we talked for the rest of the journey 
as if we ignored the whole thing. Bamave saved the gardes 
du corps who were with us and whom the National guards 
wanted to massacre. 

September 8, 1791. 

The Constitution is in the hands of the king since Satur- 
day, and he is reflecting on the answer he will make. Time 
will tell us what he decides upon in his wisdom. We must 
ask the Holy Spirit to give him of its gifts ; he has great need 
of them. 

68 UFB AND LETTSBS OF [chap. n. 

I wiflh I had something <i^TP^iwTig to tell 70a, but we do 
not abound in that commodity; all the more because the 
price of bread is rising and makes us fear many riots this 
winter, not counting those with which the autumn threatens 
us. It is very sad» and there is no way to make ourselves 
illusions because the Assembly itself speaks of them, the riots, 
as an evil it ezpecta It is true that the strength given 
by the love of liberty is very reassuring, and patriotism 
can easily take the place of order and the subordination of 
troops. ... 

Yes, my heart, I wish I could transport myself near you. 
How sweet it would be to me ! But Providence has placed 
me where I am ; it is not I who chose it ; Providence keeps 
me here and to that I must submit We are still quite tran- 
quil A letter has appeared from the Prince, and a declara- 
tion from the emperor and the King of Prussia [at Pillnitz]. 
The letter is strong, but the other is not. Yet some persons 
think they see the heavens opening. As for me I am not so 
credulous ; I lift my hands to heaven and ask that God will 
save us from useless evils. You will do the same, I think. 

To the Marquise cU Baigecourt 

Septeml»er 12, 1701. 

At last I have an opportunity to write to you; I am charmed, 
for I have a hundred thousand things to say ; but I do not 
know where to begin ; besides, I do not want to have to render 
an account of this letter in the next world, for, just now, 
charity is a difficult virtue to put in practice. 

I begin by telling you that the Constitution is not yet signed, 
but it is safe to wager that it will be by the time this letter 
reaches you, perhaps before I close it, even. Is it a good, is 
it an evil ? Heaven alone knows which it is. Many persons 
think, from their point of view, that they are certain about it 


I am in no way called upon to give my advice^ or even to 
speak of the matter. I am still floating as to the view to 
take ; there are so many /ora and if% and }yniiU to be considered 
that I remain uncertain. One must see all things very near 
to judge; these are too far-off to be able to bring them 
enough into one's thoughts to fix one's idea& 

Tospeak to you a little of myself, I will tell you that I am 
about what you have always seen me; rather gay, though 
there are moments when my position makes me feel keenly ; 
nevertheless, on the whole, I am more calm than agitated or 
anxious, as you certainly fancy I am. The knowledge you 
have of my nature will make you understand what I say. 
The life I lead is about the same. We go to mass at mid- 
day; dine at half-past one. At six I return to my own 
apartments ; at half-past seven the ladies come ; at half-past 
nine we sup. They play billiards after dinnw and after 
supper, to make the king take exercisa At eleven every- 
body goes to bed, to begin again on the morrow. Sometimes 
I regret my poor Montreuil, especially when the weather is 
warm and fine; there may come a time, perhaps, when we 
shall all be there again ; what happiness I should then feel 1 
but everything teUs me that moment is very far-off; we are 
walking on a quicksand. 

One thing alone affects me deeply. It is that they are 
tryiug to put coldness into a family whom I love sincerely.^ 
Consequently, as you are in the way of seeing a person who 
might have some influence, I wish you would talk to him in 
private and fill him with the idea that all will be lost if fhc 
ton should have other ideas lor the future than those of con- 
fidence and submission to the orders of the father. All 

1 Between the king and his brothers. In the above letter the name 
father means the king ; that of mother4n4aw, the queen ; that of $on the 
CoaHe d'Artois. -* Pn. E^ 

70 LIFE AND LETTERS OF [chaf. n. 

views, all ideas, all feelings ought to yield to that Tou 
must feel, yourself, how necessary this is. To speak quite 
clearly : remember the position of that imfortunate father ; 
events which prevent him from any longer managing his 
own estate throw him into the arms of his son. That son 
has always had as you know, a perfect conduct towards 
his father, in spite of all that has been done to make him 
quarrel with his mother-in-law. He always resisted it. I 
do not think it made him bitter, because he is incapable of 
bitterness ; but I fear that those who are now allied with him 
may give him bad advice. The father is nearly well; his 
afifairs are recovering ; he may shortly take back the manage- 
ment of his estate, and tJiat is the moment that I fear. The 
son, who sees the advantages of leaving them in the hands 
in which they now are, will hold to that idea ; the mother-in- 
law will never allow it ; and this struggle must be averted 
by making the yoimg man feel that, even for his personal 
iuterests, he ought not to put forward that opinion, and so 
avoid placing himself in a painful position. 

I wish therefore that you would talk this over with the 
person I indicated, and make him enter iuto my meaning 
(without telling him I have spoken thus) by making him 
believe the idea is his own, and then he will more readily 
communicate it. He ought to feel better than any one the 
rights of the father over his sons, for he has long experi- 
enced it I wish also that he could persuade the young 
man to be a little more gracious to his mother-in-law, if 
only by the charm a man can employ when he chooses, and 
thus convince her that he wants to see her what she has 
always been. In this way he would avoid much vexation 
and could enjoy in peace the friendship and confidence of 
his father. But you know veiy well that it is only by 
talking tranqmlly to that person, without closing the eyes 


or lengthening the face, that you can make him feel what I 
say. For that you must be convinced yourself. Therefore, 
read my letter over again, try to understand it thoroughly, 
and start from that to do my commission. They will tell 
you harm of the mother-in-law; but the sole means of 
preventing that from becoming a reality is the one I tell 
you. The young man made a blunder in not allying him- 
self with a friend of the said lady. If no one speaks to you 
of this do not mention it. 

P. S. I knew it I here is the Constitution settled and 
accepted in a letter which you will certainly hear of soon. 
In reading it, you will know all that I think of it, therefore 
I will say no more. I have much anxiety as to the results. 
I wish I could be in all the cabinets of Europe. The con- 
duct of Frenchmen becomes difficult One single thing 
supports me, it is the joy of knowing that those gentlemen 
are out of prison.^ I go to the Assembly at midday, to 
follow the queen; were I mistress of myself, I certainly 
would not go. But, I do not know how it is, all this does 
not cost me as much as it does others, though assuredly I 
am far from being constitutional M. de Ghoiseul came 
out of prison to-day, the others yesterday. Adieu ; give me, 
in white ink, all the news you know, but try to have it true. 
That about the imperial troops does not please me. What 
is said in your region ? The colonies are not to be subjected 
to the decrees. Bamave spoke with such force that he 
carried the day. That man has much talent; he has in- 
tellect, he might have been a great man had he willed it ; 
he may still be one ; but heaven's anger is not over. How 
should it be ? what are we doing to make it so ? 

1 AU the gentlemen captured during the flight to Yarennes were 
released on the king's accepting the Constitution. — Tb. 

72 LIFE Am> LETTERS 09 [chap ix. 

October 4, 1791. 

They say there is to be a congresB at Aix-la-Ghapelle ; 
they even quote an extaract of a letter from Mar^chal de 
Broglie saying positiyely that the emperor has received 
answers from all the other Courts, adhering to the dedaia- 
tion of Pillnitz, and that in consequence their ministera and 
ambassadors are to assemble at Aix-la-GhapeUe. God grant 
it may be so I Then, indeed, we might have a hope of 
seeing our evils at an end. But this slow progress demands 
great prudence, much union of wiUs ; to this all our desires 
should tend. I own to you that this position works upon 
my mind more than it should. I am pursued in my prayers 
with counsels that I want to give ; I am very discontented 
with myself; I wish to be calm — but that will coma 

October 12, 179L 

Very happy news is being spread here. The emperor has, 
they say, recognized the National flag; thus, all fears are 
calmed. It must be owned that in the eyes of the cen- 
turies, present and future, such pacific moderation will have 
a superb effect Already I see histories relating it with 
enthusiasm, the people blessing it for their happiness, 
peace reigning in my hapless coimtry, constitutional re- 
ligion fully established, philosophy enjoying its work, and 
we, poor Boman-apostolicals, moaning and hiding ourselves; 
for if this Assembly is not driven out by the Parisians, 
things will be terrible for non-conformists. But^ my heart, 
God is master of all ; let us work to save ourselves ; let us 
pray for the evil-doers, and not imitate them; God will 
reward us how and when he wilL 

All is tranquil here, but who knows how long it will 
last ? I think it may last long, because the people, meeting 
with no resistance, have no reascm for ezeitement. The 


king is at this moment the .object of public adoration; 
you cannot form an idea of the uproar there was on Saturday 
night at the Italian comedy; but we must wait and 8ee 
how long such enthusiasm will last. 

I do not number my letters any longer, because I burned 
aU the papers I did not care to have read on my return 

I thinky as you do, that the young man of whom you 
speak [Gomte d'Artois] will never be happy in his family ; 
but I do not think that his mother-in-law is altogether the 
cause of it ; I think he is tricked by the old fox [Comte de 
Mercy] who is the intimate friend of her brother. If the 
young man did wisely he would try to win him over, but 
there are so many conflicting interests to defeat it I What 
is greatly to be feared is that the mother-in-law should be 
as much the fox's victim as any one. 

An extraordinary thing has happened within a day or 
two ; a corporal took it upon himself to lock the king and 
queen into their rooms from nine o'clock at night till nine 
the next morning. This went on two days before it was 
discovered. The guard is furious, and there is to be a coun- 
cil of war. By rules, the corporal ought to be hanged ; but 
I do not think he will be, and I should be sorry for it. The 
rumour in Paris is that the king is imder arrest 

No doubt you read the newspapers, therefore I give you 
no news when I tell you that the decree on the priests 
passed yesterday, with all possible severity. It was taken 
to the king in spite of its unconstitutional faults. At the 
same time there came a deputation of, I believe, twenty- 
four members^ to beg the king to take steps towards the 
Powers inviting them to prevent the great assemblages of 
imigris, or else to declare war against them. In their 
speech they assured the king that Louis XIV. would not 

74 LIFE AND LETTERS OF [chap, il 

have suffered such assemblages. What do you think of 
that? — a pretty thing of them to talk in these days of 
Louis XIV., "that despot!" 

To the Marquise de Bomhellee. 

NoTember 8, 1791. 

Do you know, my Bombe, that if I did not rely on your 
friendship, your indulgence, I should be rather ashamed of 
the long time since I have written to you. But it was to do 
better that I did wrong. I wanted to write you a long letter 
and I never have found tima Your mother wrote you a 
week ago, so that you know that all with us is still standing, 
and that, in spite of the blasphemies they never cease to 
vomit against Gtod and his ministers, the skies have not 
yet fallen upon us. . . . [^The rest is in white ink.'] 

At last they feel here the necessity of drawing closer to 
Coblentz [the headquarters of the princes and Smigrfs]. 
Some one is to be sent from here who will remain there, and 
will be in correspondence with the Baron de BreteuiL^ But 
I feel one fear as to this step ; I am afraid it is taken only 

^ LoaU XVL's confidential agent towards the Conrts of Europe. The 
following is a copy of his full powers : — 

" Monsieur le Baron de Breteuil, knowing yonr zeal and your fidelity, 
and wishing to give you a proof of my confidence, I ha^e chosen you to 
confide to you the interests of my crown. Circumstances do not allow me 
to giro you instructions on this or that object, nor to hold with you a con- 
tinuous correspondence. I send you the present to serre you as full 
powers Ipleins pouv'oirs] and authorization towards the different Powers 
with whom you may have to negotiate for me. You know my intentions ; 
and I leave it to your prudence to make what use you judge necessary of 
these powers for the good of my serrice. I approve of all that you may 
do to attain the end that I propose to myself, which is the re^stablishment 
of my legitimate authority and the welfare of my people. On which, I 
pray God, M. le Baron de Breteuil, etc." 

The Baron de Breteuirs headquarters were at Brussels. See " Diary 
and Correspondence of Count Axel Fersen," the preceding volume of this 
Hist Series. — Ta. 


to stop rash enterprises, wMch are much to be dreaded, and 
not to bring about deserved confidence. Yet, if that confi- 
dence does not exist what will happen ? We shall be the 
dupe of all the Powers of Europe. I hope your husband will 
urge the Baron de Breteuil to enter sincerely into this new 
order of things. Here we are at the gates of winter ; this is 
the moment for negotiations ; they might have a happy issue, 
but only if done with harmony of action. If that does not 
exist, remember what I tell you : in the spring, either the 
most dreadful civil war will be established in France, or each 
province will set up its own master. Do not think that 
the policy of Vienna is disinterested ; it is far short of that. 
Austria never forgets that Alsace once belonged to her. All 
the other Powers are very glad to have a reason to leave us in 
a state of humiliation. Think of the time that has passed 
since our return from Varennes I Did those events stir the 
emperor ? Has he not been the first to show uncertainty as 
to what he would do ? To believe, as many persons assert, 
that it is the queen who holds him back, seems to me devoid 
of sense, and almost a crime. But I do permit myself to 
think that the policy pursued towards that Power has not 
been conducted with sufficient skiU. If that is so, I think 
there is some blame ; but it would be unpardonable if, after 
the decree given yesterday against the SmigrSs, the present 
danger were not felt. Judge by the quantity of Frenchmen 
who are over there how impossible it will be to restrain 
them ; and what wiU become of France and her king if they 
take such a course without foreign help ? Beflect on all this, 
my Bombe; and if your husband sees there is real danger 
that . . . [tJie paper is torn at this place"] ... or that he 
urges his friend to act in good faith ; I expect that at first 
the man sent to Goblentz will meet with some difficulties ; 
but he must not be alarmed ; speaking in the king's name 

76 LIFE AND LETTERS OF [chap. n. 

and putting no inflexibility into his manner of maintaining 
his opinion while arguing it well, he will lead the others. 

Adieu ; let me know that you receive this letter ; if yoiir 
husband takes any steps towards the baron he must not let 
him know that I asked it^ or that I have even written to you 
on the subject 

To the Comte cPArtais. 

Febroaiy 19, 1792. 

You know, my dear brother, what my friendship is for 
you, aud how I rejoice to hear of your weU-being. I believe, 
I who am here on the spot, that you are unjust towards that 
person ; you have not at bottom a better friend. I pray God 
that he will shed upon you his blessing and his light, and 
you will then judge better. This estrangement is on all 
sides a calamity and a suffering ; for it casts shadows where 
friendship ought to shine. I will write to you more at length 
by the opportunity you know of, and I will prove to you that 
you will never find a truer, tenderer, more devoted friend 
than I am to you. 

To the Marquise de Raigecourt 

February 22, 179S. 

I will see, my heart, when my purse is a little less empty, 
what I can do for those good and saintly Fathers of the 
sacred Valley [La Trappe]. What a life is theirs ! how we 
ought to blush in comparing it with ours ! But perhaps a 
part of those saints have not as many sins to expiate as we 
have. What ought to console us is that Grod does not re- 
quire from everybody what he does from them, and that, pro- 
vided we are faithful in the little we do, he is content. 

The queen and her children were at the theatre last night, 
where the audience made an infernal uproar of applause. 
The Jacobins tried to make a disturbance, but they were 


beaten. The others called for the repetition four times of 
the duet between the valet and the maid in " £y^ements 
impr^vus/' in which they tell of the love they feel for their 
master and mistress ; and at the passage where they say, 
^We must make them happy/' the greater part of the 
audience cried out, ** Yes, yes I " — Can you conceive of our 
nation? It must be owned, it has its charming moments. 
On which, good-night Yoxxr sister spent a happy day lately 
at the * Calvaire." Vive la Liberti ! As for me, who enjoy 
as much as I can of it for the last three years, I envy the fate 
of those who can turn their steps where they will ; if I could 
only spend a few calm days it would do me great good. It 
is a year since I have dared to go to Saint-Gyr. 

To the Comte d^Artais. 

February 22, 1792. 

Your last letter was brought to me this morning, my dear 
brother, and I have been made very happy by finding it less 
bitter than the one that preceded it. Nevertheless, I prom- 
ised to add a few words to one I wrote you three days ago, 
and I am too sincerely jour friend not to do so. 

I think that the son has too much severity towards his 
mother-in-law. She has not the faults for which he blames 
her. I think she may have listened to siispicious advice ; 
but she bears the evils that overwhelm her with strong 
courage ; and she should be pitied far more than blamed, for 
she has good intentions. She tries to fix the vacillations 
[incertitudes'] of the father, who, to the misfortune of the 
family, is no longer master, and — I know not if Gk>d wills 
that I deceive myself, but — I greatly fear that she will be 
one of the first victims of what is taking place, and my 
heart is too wrung with that presentiment to allow me to 
blame her. 

78 LIFE AND LETTERS OF [chu. n. 

Grod is good ; he will not suffer discord to continue in a 
family to which unity and a good understanding would be 
so useful I shudder when I think of it ; it deprives me of 
sleep, for discord will Idll us alL Tou know the difference 
in habits and societies that your sister had always had with 
the mother-in-law ; in spite of that she feels drawn to her 
when she sees her unjustly accused, and when she looks the 
future in the face. It is very imfortunate that the son has 
not been willing, or perhaps able, to win over the intimate 
friend of the mother-in-law's brother [Comte de Mercy]. 
That old fox is tricking her; and the son ought to have 
taken the duty upon himself, if possible, and made the sac- 
rifice of being on terms with him in order to foil him and 
prevent an evil which has now become alarming. Of two 
evils, the least. All men of his sort frighten me ; they have 
intellect, but what good is it to them ? Heart is needed as 
well, and they have none. They have nothing but intrigue ; 
into which it is unfortimate that they drag so many persons. 
Others should have been more shrewd than they. . . . 

The idea of the emperor racks me : if he makes war upon 
us there will be an awful explosion. May God watch over 
us I He has heavily laid his hand on this kingdom in a 
visible manner. Let us pray to him, my dear brother ; he 
alone knows hearts, in him alone is our worthy hopa I 
have passed this Lent in asking him to look with pity upon 
us, and to arrange these matters in the family I love so 
much. I have that so deeply at heart that I would conse- 
crate my life to asking it on my two knees, if that would 
make me worthy of being heard. It is only God who can 
change our fate, make the vertigo of this nation (good at 
bottom) cease, and restore it to health and peace. Adieu — 
what was it you asked me ? how I pass my time ? what are 
my occupations ? whether I ride on horseback ? whether I 


Btill go to Saint-Cyx ? I scarcely dare for a whole year past 
to do my duties. I kiss you with all my heart. Miserere 

To the Marquise de Raigecourt. 

April 6, 1702. 

As I do not wish you to scold me, I write on Holy Thurs- 
day, but only a little line. The King of Sweden is assas- 
sinated! Every one has his turn. He had incredible 
courage. We do not yet know if he is dead; but it is 
likely that he is from the way the pistol was loaded. Adieu, 
my heart ; when you wean the baby I will busy myself in 
finding you a lodging in the chateau, for yours has been 
given to others. 

April 18,1792. 

You think perhaps we are still in the agitation of the f6te 
at Ch&teauvieux ; not at all ; everything is very tranquiL 
The people flocked to see Dame Liberty tottering on her 
triumphal car, but they shrugged their shoulders. Three or 
four hundred sans-cuhttes followed her shouting : ** The Na- 
tion I liberty ! The Sans-Culottes ! " It was all very noisy, 
but flat. The National guards would not mingle ; on the 
contrary, they were angry, and Potion, they say, is ashamed 
of his conduct The next day a pike with a bonnet rouge 
walked about the garden, without shouting, and did not 
stay long. 

The King of Sweden died with much couraga What a 
pity that he was not Catholic ; he would have been a true 
hero. His coimtry seems tranquiL Adieu, my heart. 

June 23, 1702. 

For three days before the 20th a great commotion was felt 
to exist in Paris, but it was thought that all necessary pre- 

} Lin: AND f.LTTEl^- OF |Cit.ii. r.. 



■'. . .y.ii.lo iu\a ^TivL^ii ^^clv full of t.- ■, - 

'.-. jii il'Jit t^t^ tn.ilMMi:':; Saint -Anttiiij- v • • 'i 
;: jj'iv a p':i:' i'»n t -• tlit* A>sonH'lv. arJ d.-. .' i 
., (.1, ., , til-, '^'ji!. >?•!'. ::. Fifto«'n u^i ^IV'M j»*»rM>iis filed 
. . iN't. h\y • i- w Nil' ij^jfjl pia' - an.l ?'*iue iiivulii'- 

i*^ : .^'N r. nw I a>' J''-." 11^1,/ tu ; '■ av ihe trv> |'> t<» t'liu-r i».- 
j/'ts' •• . -••:v!i\;4 il.',^ lb » A'^^. ?nbly was liarnpered '»/ tii.* 
(■Vi»v «. n^d il.e }>;5-^-. .:v>5 s.- iru'Minhored (hat the doors miiOu* 
he 1< r« d. Tl't.' kiii' told t)^ '.^ i»> airau"'** villi '-^r* owin- 

out 1 V Ju ;.'"ij- ff the nO: ;j;-v:h<^>»L 

hi ' nlv a<\'': this iIk; tah- ;• pUes nt the £rir-\fn wei^ 

''.•>«'nt.d ill si.'ie »»f ilir-se cr.l Th. Soon t^e ■::aT<Uii was {[]]< i*. 

Ilk' |)ik .'.r hpj'ai! t^ iu:d.' ill (>i<i'*i i.iid.- r tlie temve i" f-'.-'it 

01 tiie (hai'.'.'iLi V. ii'^re tlioui \\<'it* ihiec liaei of >«uiiiiijai 

fruap*-. Thev went out l»v the ^.aie t<^ ^h.» P«inr. K<»vu: and 

s«'(.;«t<' to iuiL"<i to ija.^s thr* "'b the Carer.-. 1 i»n U '\v .' » ; 

*'fi'k to i! e fa'uooi.iix SaiM-Antoiju^. Al three tAd(»iiv iri"\ 

.!'-v<-J sv'-- of \\i. liii.'!; to frrec th«! i::'<e of ih\. 'TUiid 

' • •• •: I IVo umiLM oii(;ors ('r»emjd it. The Nati.'ii? a 

.■ . ♦ ' ' M had ii'^t Ik/'u 'lole 10 ohl-fn aiiv <.»ri^^ifi ^in^^> 

^», li.''l ihr ^"rr<AV of seeiin/ tJ'e'U ci-v'- thx? c lut- 

. ". ' i: 'i 'i^-'.^ al.le to baT- the wav. Tlie deiartzm-ni 

Ti • ■ f' r«pid>e f'«u\* ly f'.-j ^. ■' . Uie iiiuu.'.:- 

: ' jiiiou U> t]n\-*, 

•? ;n'"u^:i: '*t. l}^» ' u/a \vind'»\v. "I'lio u '\ 

• \\ ill hie; '.inrt <h' 'Unff'/r ,'ai:»e aii.t j-inc'l 

. • ••. ^ 'l^i^l. A n . !(u;ni hiL«T v\e lii-ar.' K.! .- 

) • ■ : a few ijrTra.iivr.^ ond V"hi.'i! < r- ^\ 'i -ie 

) . i!e aslrt I ihe kius; to show him-iii. . l-'i-v'. 

iiui ' •) into t^:o ti.'i aJiU.\ha::/uet'. Th-:/e '1. 

r Vw/-^-' xy/ 


d'Hervilly came to join him^ with three or four grenadien 
whom he had induced to come with him. 

At the moment when the king passed into the antechamber 
the persons attached to the queen forced her to go into her 
son's room. More fortunate than she, no one tore me &om 
the king's sida The queen had scarcely gone when the door 
was burst in by the pikes. The king, at that instant, mounted 
one of the coffers which stand in the windows. The Mar^ 
chal de Mouchy, MM. d'HerviUy, Acloque, and a dozen 
grenadiers surrounded him. I stood against the wall with 
the ministeis, M. de Marcilly, and some National guards 
aroimd me. The pikes entered the chamber like a thunder- 
bolt ; they looked for the king, especially one of them, who 
used the most dangerous language A grenadier turned aside 
his weapon, saying, ^' Unhappy man ! this is your king." All 
the grenadiers then began to shout Vive le Boi! The rest of 
the pikes responded mechanically to the cry ; the chamber 
was filled in less time than 1 can teU it, the pikes demanding 
the sanction, and the dismissal of the ministers.^ 

During four hours the same shouts were repeated. Men^ 
hers of the Assembly came. M. Veigniaud and Isnard spoke 
well to the people ; told them they did wrong to demand the 
king's sanction thus, and urged them to withdraw; but it 
was as if they did not speak at alL At last Potion and the 
municipality arrived. The first harangued the people, and 
after praising the " dignity " and " order " with which they 
had come, he invited them to retire with "the same calm- 

1 This was the moment, recorded bj aU other witnesses and forgotten by 
Madame l^lisabeth, when, being mistaken for the qneen and threatened with 
death, she stopped those who wished to correct the blander. " No, no," 
she said, "let them think I am she." One witness mentions that she 
added, " Their crime would be less/' 

It was on this occasion that a woman of the people said, the next 

day : " We could do nothing then ; they had their Sainte Geneyi^Te with 

them."— Te. 


82 LIFE AND LETTERS OF [chaf. ii. 

ness/' in order that they might not be reproached for com- 
mitting excess at " a civic f Ste." At last the populace b^an 
to depart. 

I forgot to tell you that, shortly after the crowd entered, 
the grenadiers made a space and kept the people from press- 
ing on the king. As for me, I had mounted the window- 
seat on the side towards the king's room. A great number 
of persons attached to the king had come to him that morn- 
ing; but he sent them orders to go away, fearing another 
18th of April I should like to express myself as to that, 
but not being able to do so, I will simply say that I shall 
recur to it. All that I say now is that he who gave the 
order did well, and that the conduct of the others was 

But to return to the queen, whom I left dragged against 
her will to my nephew's room ; they had carried the latter 
so quickly into hiding that she did not see him on entering 
his apartment. You can imagine her despair. But M. Hu^, 
usher, and M. Saint- Vincent were with him and soon brought 
him to her. She did everything possible to return to the 
king, but MM. de Choiseul and d'Haussonville, also those 
of our ladies who were there, prevented it. A moment later 
they heard the doors burst in, all but one which the people 
did not find. Meantime the grenadiers had entered the 
Council Chamber, and there they placed her, with her chil- 
dren, behind the Council table; The grenadiers and other 
attached persons surrounded her, and the populace defiled 
before her. One woman put a bonnet rotige upon her head, 
also on that of my nephew. The king had worn one from 
almost the first moment. Santerre, who conducted the pro- 
cession, harangued her, and told her they deceived her by 
saying that the people did not love her. He assured her 
she had nothing to fear. "We fear nothing," she replied, 


^ when we are with brave men." So saying, she stretched 
out her hand to the grenadiers who were near her, and they 
fell upon it It was very touching. 

The deputies who came, came with good-wilL A true 
deputation arrived which requested the king to return to his 
own room. I was told of this, and not being willing to stay 
behind in the crowd, I left about an hour before he did, and 
rejoined the queen. You can judge with what joy I em- 
braced her, though I was then ignorant of the risks she had 
run. The king returned to his room, and nothing could be 
more touching than the moment when the queen and his 
children threw themselves into his arms. The deputies who 
were there burst into tears. The deputations relieved each 
other every half-hour until quiet was completely restored. 
They were shown the violences that had been committed. 
They behaved very well in the apartment of the king, who 
was perfect to them. At ten o'clock the chftteau was empty, 
and every one went to bed. 

The next day, the National Guard, after expressing the 
greatest grief at its hands being bound, and having had be- 
fore its eyes, helplessly, all that had taken place, obtained 
an order from Potion to fire, if necessary. At seven o'clock 
it was said that the faubouigs were marching, and the Guard 
put itself under arms with the greatest zeaL Deputies of 
the Assembly came with good-will and asked the king to let 
the Assembly come to him, if he thought there was danger. 
The king thanked them. You will see their dialogue in the 
newspapers, also the one with Potion, who came to tell the 
king that the crowd was only a few persons who wanted to 
plant a May tree. 

At this moment we are tranquil The arrival of M. de la 
Fayette from the army creates a little excitement in people's 
minds. The Jacobins are sleeping. These are the details of 

84 LIFE AND LBTTEB8 OF [chap. ii. 

tlie 20tih of Jtme. Adieu ; I Am well; I kiss you, and I ajn 
thanfrfnl you are not here in the fcay. 

To ihe AhbS de Ztiber$ac. 

June 25, 1702. 

Xbis letter will be rather long on its way ; but I p]:efer 
not to let this opportunity of talking with you pass. I am 
convinced that you will feel aknost as keenly as ourselves 
the blow that has just been struck us ; it is all the more 
dreadful because it lacerates the heart, and takes away our 
peace of mind. The future seems an abyss, from which 
we can only issue by a mirade of Providence. Do we 
deserve it? At that question I feel my courage fail me. 
Which of us can expect the answer, ^ Yes, you deserve it " ? 
All suffer, but alas ! none are penitent, none turn their hearts 
to God. As for me, what reproaches I have to make to my- 
self ! Swept along by the whirlwind of misfortune I have 
not asked of God the grace we need ; I have relied on human 
help ; I have been more guilty than others, for who has been 
as much as I the child of Providence ? But it is not enoi^h 
to recognize oujr faults; we must repair them. I cannot 
alone. Monsieur, have the charity to help me. Ask of God, 
not a change which it may please him to send us when, 
in his wisdom, he thinks suitable, but let us liuxit ourselves 
and ask him only to enlighten and touch all hearts, and es- 
pecially to speak to two most imhap^py beings, who would be 
more unhappy still if God did not call them to him. Alas ! 
the blood of Jesus Christ flowed for them as much as for the 
solitary hermit who mourns for trivial faults incessantly. 
Say to God often, " If thou wilt, thou canst cure them," and 
give to him the glory of it. God knows the remedies to be 

I am sorry, to write to you iu so gloomy a style ; but my 


heart is so dark that it is difficult for me to speak otherwise. 
Do not think from this that my health suffers ; no^ I. am 
well ; and Grod has given me grace to keep my gaiety. I 
earnestly hope that yoiir health may be restored ; I wi^ I 
could know that it was better ; but how can one hope that 
with your sensibilities ? Let us think that there is another 
life where we shall be amply compensated for the troubles 
of this one ; and let us live in the hope of meeting there 
once more — but not until after we have the pleasure of see- 
ing each other again in this world ; for, in spite of my exces* 
sive gloom, I cannot believe that all is hopeless. Adieu> 
monsieur; pray for me, I beg of you, after having prayed 
for. those others, and send me news of yourself at times ; it 
IS a consolation to me. 

To the Marqwise de Raigecourt. 

Jnly 8, 179Z 

It would really require all the eloquence of Mme. de 
S^vign^ to describe what happened yesterday ; for it is, in" 
deed, the most surprising thing, the most extraordinary, die 
grandest, the pettiest, etc., etc. Happily, experience aids 
comprehension. In short, behold the Jacobins, the Feuil- 
lants, the BepubHcans, the Monarchists, all abjuring their 
diseordfl; and, uniting beneath the immovable arch of the 
Constitution and Liberty, promising one another very sin- 
cerdy to walk together, laws in hand, and never to diaviate 
from diem I Happily, the month of August is approaehing, 
wheU) its foliage being fully developed^ the tree of liberty 
will* offer a safer e^ada The city is tranquil and. will. be so 
during the Federation. I tremble lest there be no religious 
ceremonies ; you know my taste for them. Ask of God, my 
hearty that he will give me strength and oounseL Adieu; I 
embdaea and love yoi& wdth all. my heart. 

86 LIFE Am) LETTERS OF [ohap. ii. 

July 11, 1792. 

Our good patriots in the Assembly have just> my heart, 
declared the coimtiy to be in danger, in view of the conduct 
of the kings of Hungary and Prussia (not to speak of others) 
towards poor peaceable beings like us ; for why should any 
one blame us ? However that may be, the nation is about 
to rise as one man. 

Our ministers have taken the course of resigning, all six 
at once ; which astonishes many persons, — all the more be- 
cause their determination was sudden and confided to no 
one. I had attached mjrself to two of them, and you will 
agree that that was hardly worth while. 

Our Federation is making ready quietly. A few Federals 
are already here ; they do not come in troops as they did 
two years ago, but gradually. I have just seen some disem- 
barking, and they have not an elegant appearance. 

Adieu ; I kiss you with all my heart, and I beg of you the 
favour of not fretting because you are not here ; the reasons 
are good why you should stay where you are, and you must 
think of the matter no longer. ' 

July 18, 1702. 

Tour prayers, unworthy as you pretend they are, brought 
us good fortune, my heart ; the famous day of the 14th [fete 
of the Federation] passed off tranquilly. There was much 
shouting of Vive Pition ! and the Sans Culottes ! As we re- 
turned the whole guard which accompanied the king never 
ceased shouting, Vive le roi ! they were all heart and soul 
for us; that did good. Since then Paris is very calm. They 
have just sent away three regiments and two battalions of 
the Swiss Guards to the camp at Soissons. 

I am well, my heart, except for the heat, which is scarcely 
endurable just now. We had a frightful storm the night 


before last ; it lasted an immense time ; the lightning fell 
upon the gardens at Versailles. Adieu, my heart ; my letters 
must tire you ; I think that before long you will not have 
patience to read them ; but how can I help it ? I do not know 
what to tell you. I kiss you with all my heart. 

/^^ijQ' qtu^ ft 4ini ffHhu4tc, run ttc'^s^nf^^^tsit^ 

• • • 

To the Abbe de Lubersac, 

July 22, 1792. 

You will soon receive a letter from me which is a perfect 
jeremiad. From its style one would think I had foreseen 
what was to follow. I do not wish you to think, monsieur, 
that that is my habitual state. No, God grants me the grace 
to be quite otherwise ; but at times my heart has need to let 
itself go, and I must speak of the agitations that fill it ; it 
seems as if, by giving relaxation to the nerves, they gained 
more strength. You, who are more sensitive than others, 
must feel this need. 

Since the dreadful day of the 20th we are more tranquil ; 
but we do not the less need the prayers of saintly souls. 
Let those who, sheltered from the storm, feel only, so to 
speak, its repercussion, lift their hearts to God. Yes, God 
has given them the favour to live in quiet that they may 
make that use of their freedom. Those on whom the storm 
lowers meet at times with such shocks that it is difficult to 

88 LIFE AND LETTERS OF [ohap. ii. 

practise the great resouice — that of prayer. Happy the 
heart of whoso oan feel in the great agitations of this world 
that God is with it I happy the saints who, pierced by stabs, 
oan yet praise God in every moment of their day ! Ask that 
grace, monsieur, for those who are feeble and little faithful 
like me ; it would be a true work of charity to do. 

My aunt thanks me often for making her know you [the 
Abb^ de Lubersac was with Madame Yictoire in Rome]. It 
seems to me very simple that she should be pleased, and I 
think myself fortunate to have procured for her that advan« 
tage — or, to speak more truly, to have been one of the 
iostruments that God has used for that work of salvation. I 
will not say as to that all that I think ; but I am very glad 
to be able to speak of it to you in order that you may put 
your shyness more to one side, if you are still a victim to it 
— I can use that expression, for shyness is a real affliction. 

Paris is in some fermentation ; but there exists a God who 
watches over the city and its inhabitants. Therefore be 
tranquiL I wish I could think that the great heats will not 
make you suffer; but that is difficult. Adieu, monsieur, I 
hope that you do not forget me before God, and that you. are 
oonvinded of the esteem I have for yoiL 

To the Marqwise de Baigecourt. 

July 25, 1702. 

Grood-day, my Baigecourt Your H^lbne must be a jewel 
I do not doubt it, but I am charmed to hear it ; though I 
should be still more charmed, I assure you, if I could see her 
instead of believing what you say of her. But patience! 
your health, I hope, will not be long in getting strong, and 
then you might soon come and join me. What a fine 
moment, my hearty will that be 1 we shall have bought it by 
a very long parting. But there is an end to all Uungs; I 


do not flatter myself that I can see you before the sutunm ; 
but it is always sweet to be able to talk of it. 

Out days pass tranquilly. The last few have not been 
quite the same ; the people tried to force the gates ; but the 
National Guard behaved admirably and stopped it all There 
is talk of suspending the executive power to pasa the time. 
To pass mine in another manner I go, in the moroii^, foi 
three or four hours into the garden, — not every day, how- 
ever ; but it does me a great deal of good. Adieu ; I Idas you 
with my whole heart and end because there is nothing I am 
able to tell you. 

Madame fHisaheth's last letter bore date August 8, 1792 ; 
two days before the fatal 10th, when silence fell forever 
between her and her friends. In that letter she spoke of the 
" death of the executive power," adding, " I can enter into 
no details." 

90 LIFE AKD LETTEBS OF [chap. hi. 


Madame ifisiisabeth's Bemoval to the Conciergerie. — Her Examination^ 

Condemnation, and Death. ^ 

[The only authentic records of Madame Elisabeth's life 
from the day she entered the Tower of the Temple, August 
13, 1792, to May 9, 1794, the day when she was torn from 
the arms of her young niece, are in the simple Narrative of 
that niece, Marie-Th^r^se de France, and in the Journal of 
the Temple by Cl^ry, Louis XVL's valet. These narratives 
could be, and have been rewritten and elaborated in tender 
words by loving hearts, but their plain simplicity is more 
befitting the sacred figure of this brave, self-foigetting, wise, 
and trviy Christ-like woman. They are queens later. 

We take her now as she emerges from the Temple, for a 
last brief moment, into the sight and hearing of men.] 

On the 25th of November, 1793, die municipality of Paris 
addressed to the National Assembly the following petition : 

'' Legislators 

** You have decreed Equality ; source of public wel&re ; it 
IB established on f oimdations henceforth immovable ; never- 
theless, it is violated, this Equality, and in the most revolt- 
ing manner, by the vile remains of tyranny, by the prisoners 
in the Tower of the Temple. Could they still, those abomi- 
nable remains, be of any accoimt imder present circum- 
stances, it could be only from the interest the countiy has 

1 Madame ^Elisabeth's Life in the Temple, being recorded only by her 
niece and by CMry, wiU be found later, in their narratiyes. — Tb. 


in preventing them from rending her bosom, and renew- 
ing the atrocities committed by the two monsters who gave 
them birth. If, therefore, such is the sole interest of the 
Republic in respect to them, it is beneath her sole surveil- 
lance that they ought to be placed. We are no longer iq 
those horrible days when a liberticide faction (on whom 
the blade of the law has already done justice) assumed, as a 
means of vengeance against a patriotic Commune which it 
abhorred, a responsibility which outraged all laws, and has 
weighed for more than fifteen months on every member of 
the Gommime of Paris. 

" Season, justice, equality ciy to you, l^islators, to make 
that responsibility cease. 

** And as it is more than time to return to their regular work 
two hundred and fifty sans-culottes, now unjustly employed 
in guarding the prisoners of the Temple, the Commime of 
Paris expects of your wisdom : — 

** 1st) That you will send the infamous Elisabeth before the 
Bevolutionary tribunal at the earliest moment. 

" 2d, That in regard to the posterity of the tyrant you will 
take prompt measures to transfer them to a prison chosen by 
you, there to be locked up with suitable precautions and 
treated by the system of equality in the same manner as aU 
other prisoners whom the Bepublic has need to secure. 

" Drouy, Renaed, Le Clbeo, 
Legrand, Dorigny." 

Referred to the Committee on • Public Safety, this petition 
slumbered there for six months, but it was not f oigotten in 
that hotbed of the Revolution. 

Madame Elisabeth had, from the hour that she left Mon- 
treuil, expressed the resolution to share the trials and the 
perils of her brother and his family. She kept that resolu- 

92 LIFE Ain> LETTERS OF [cbap. nu 

tion : at Versailles on the 6th of October ; in Parifl^ through 
years of gloomy solitude in the Tuileries ; on the road to and 
from Yarennes ; on that day of evil omen, the 20th of June; 
on the bloody night of the 10th of August ; in the box at the 
Assembly, facing insults and threats ; in the Tower of tlm 
Temple, witness and actor in those heart-rending farewells. 
Tes, she kept all the promises she made to Grod, and God 
was now about to keep all his to her : strength and faithful- 
ness unto death were hers, and pity passes from our minds 
as we read of these last scenes, so all-triumphant are they. 

In a pouring rain she was taken on foot across the garden 
and courtyard of the Temple, placed in a hackney-coach, and 
driven to the Gonciergerie, May 9, 1794 It was then eight 
o'clock in the evening. At ten she was taken to the council 
hall of the Eevolutionary tribunal, and there subjected to her 
first examination before Gabriel Deli^ge, judge, Fouquier- 
Tinville, prosecutor, and Ducray, derk.^ 

After placing her signature with that of the three men at 
the foot of each page of her indictment, Madame filisabeth 
was taken back to prison. She made herself no illusions as 
to the fate that awaited her. She knew it would be in vain to 
ask for the help of a Catholic priest ; she resigned herself 
to that deprivation, and offered direct to God the sacrifice of 
her life, drawing from her living faith the strength to make 
that sacrifice worthily. She was alone; no human help 
could reach her. It is said that, unknown to her, a lawyer, 
M. Chauveau-Lagarde, hearing of her arraignment, went to the 
prison to offer himself for her defence. He was not permitted 
to see her. He appealed to Fouquier-Tinville, who replied : 
" You cannot see her to-day; there is no hurry; she will not 
be tried yet." Nevertheless, spurred by a vague anxiety, M. 
Chauveau-Lagarde went the next morning to the assize courti 

^ See Appendix IL 


and there, according to hk presentunent, was Madame Elisa- 
beth seated, among twenty-four other prisoners, on the upper 
bench, where they had placed her that she might be conspic- 
uously in view of every one. It was then impossible to confer 
with her, and she was ignorant that one man stood in that 
court seeking to defend her.^ 

Ben^-Fian^ois Dumas, president of the Eevolutionary 
tribunal, opened the session ; Gabriel Delidige and Antoine- 
Marie, judges, were seated beside him. 

Gilbert liendon, deputy public prosecutor, read the 
aocuflaticm; Chades-Adrien Legris, clerk, wrote down the 

The jurors, to the number of fifteen, were the following 
citizens [names given]. 

T?ie Indictment 

*• Antoine-Quentin Fouquier, Public Prosecutor of the 
Eevolutionary Tribunal, established in Paris by the decree 
of the National Assembly, March 10, 1793, year Two of the 
Republic, without recourse to any Court of Appeal, in virtue 
of the power given him by article 2 of another decree of the 
said Convention given on the 5th of April following, to the 
effect that Hhe Public Prosecutor of said Tribunal is au- 
thorized to arrest, tiy, and judge, on the denunciation of the 
constituted authorities, or of citizens,' — 

^ Herewith declares that the following persons have been, 
by various decrees of the Committee of general safety of the 
Convention, of the Revolutionary committees of the different 
sections of Paris, and of the department of the Yonne, and 
by virtue of warrants of arrest issued by the said Public 
Prosecutor, denounced to this Tribunal: — 

^ The foUowing account of the proceedings is taken from the official 
Nport in the '' Monitenr." 

94 LIFE AND LETTERS OF [chap. hi. 

** 1st, Marie Elisabeth Capet, sister of Louis Capet, the last 
tyrant of the French, aged thirty, and bom at Versailles." 

[Then follow the names and description of ttoenty-four 
other prisoners.] 

« And, also, that it is to the family of the Capets that the 
French people owe all the evils under the weight of which 
they have groaned for so many centuries. 

" It was at the moment when excessive oppression forced 
the people to break their chains, that this whole family 
united to plunge them into a slavery more cruel than that 
from which they were trying to emerge. The crimes of all 
kinds, the guilty deeds of Capet, of the Messalina Antoi- 
nette, of the two brothers Capet, and of Elisabeth, are too 
well known to make it necessary to repaint here the hor- 
rible picture. They are written in letters of blood upon the 
annals of the Bevolution; and the unheard-of atrocities 
exercised by the barbarous imigris and the sanguinary Satel- 
lites of despots, the murders, the incendiarisms, the ravages, 
the assassinations unknown to the most ferocious monsters 
which they have committed on French territory, are still 
commanded by that detestable family, in order to deliver 
a great nation once more to the despotism and fury of a 
few individuals. 

" Elisabeth has shared all those crimes ; she has co-operated 
in all the plots, the conspiracies formed by her infamous 
brothers, by the wicked and impure Antoinette, and by the 
horde of conspirators collected around them ; she associated 
herself with their projects ; she encouraged the assassins of 
the nation, the plots of July, one thousand seven hundred 
and eighty-nine, the conspiracy of the 6th of October fol- 
lowing, of which the d'Estaings, the Villeroys, and others, 


who have now been struck by the blade of the law, were 
the agents, — in short, the whole uninterrupted chain of 
conspiracies, lasting four whole years, were followed and 
seconded by aU the means which Elisabeth had in her 
power. It was she who in the month of June, 1791, sent 
diamonds, the property of the nation, to the infamous 
d'Artois, her brother, to put him in a condition to exe- 
cute projects concerted with him, and to hire assassins of 
the nation. It was she who maintained with her other 
brother, now become an object of derision and contempt 
to the coalized Powers on whom he imposed his imbecile 
and ponderous nullity, a most active correspondence ; it was 
she who chose by the most insulting pride and disdain to 
d^rade and humiliate the free men who consecrated their 
time to guarding the tyrant ; it was she who lavished atten- 
tions on the assassins, sent to the Champs filys^es by the 
despot to provoke the brave Marseillais; it was she who 
stanched the wounds they received in their precipitate 

''filisabeth meditated with Capet and Antoinette the 
massacre of the citizens of Paris on the immortal day of the 
10th of August. She watched all night hoping to witness 
the nocturnal carnage. She helped the barbarous Antoi- 
nette to bite the cartridges ; she encouraged by her lan- 
guage, yoimg girls whom fanatical priests had brought to 
the chftteau for that horrible occupation. Finally, disap- 
pointed iQ the hope of all this horde of conspirators, 
namely, — that the citizens who came to overthrow tyranny 
would be massacred, — she fled in the morning, with the 
tyrant and his wife, and went to await in the temple of 
National sovereignty that the horde of slaves, paid and 
committed to the crimes of *that parricide Court, should 
drown Liberty in the blood of citizens and cut the throats 

96 LIF£ AND LETTERS OF [chap. iu. 

of its repTesentativeB among whom she had sought a 

^ Finally, we have seen her, since the well-deserved pun- 
ishment of the most guilty of the tyrants who have ever 
dishonoured human nature, promoting the re-establishment 
of tyranny by lavishing, with Antoinette, (m the son of 
Capet homage to royalty and the pretended honours of a 

The president, in presence of the auditoiy composed as 
aforesaid, then put to the said jurors, each individually, the 
following oath : — 

^ Citizen, you swear and promise to examine with the most 
scrupulous attenticm the charges brought against the accused 
persons, here present before you ; to commimicate with no 
one until after you declare your verdict ; to listen to neither 
hatred nor malignity, fear, nor affection ; to decide according 
to the charges and the means of defence, and according to 
your confidence and inward conviction, with the impartiality 
and firmness which becomes free men." 

After swearing the said oath, the said jurors took their 
seats in the centre of the audience chamber, facing the ac- 
cused fuid the witnesses. 

The president told the accused that they might sit down : 
after which he asked their names, age, profession, residence, 
and place of birth, beginning with Madame ifilisabeth 

Q. What is your name ? 

A. ifilisabeth-Marie. 

[The report in the " Moniteur " does not say, but a large 
number of persons present have declared that Madame 
Elisabeth answered: ''I am named £lisabeth-Marie de 
France, sister of Louis XVL, aunt of Louis XVII., your 

Q. Your age? A. Thirty. 


Q. Where were you bom ? A. Versailles. 
Q. Where do you live ? A. Paris. 

The president then put the following questions to Madame 
Elisabeth : 

Q. Where were you on the 12th, 13th, and 14th of July, 
1789, that is, at the period of the first plots of the Court 
against the people? 

A. I was in the bosom of my family. I knew of no plots 
such as you speak of. I was far from foreseeing or second- 
ing those events. 

Q. At the time of the flight of the t3ntmt, your brother, to 
Yarennes did you not accompany him ? 

A. All things commanded me to follow my brother; I 
made it my duty on that occasion, as on all others. 

Q. Did you not figure in the infamous and scandalous orgy 
of the Gku*des-du-corp8, and did you not make the circuit of 
the table with Marie-Antoinette and induce each guest to 
repeat the shockiog oath to exterminate the patriots, to 
smother liberty at its birtli, and re-establish the tottering 

A. I am absolutely ignorant if the orgy mentioned took 
place ; and I declare that I was never in any way informed 
of it. 

Q. You do not tell the truth, and your denial is not of any 
use to you, because it is contradicted on one side by public 
notoriety, and on the other by the likelihood, which con- 
vinces every man of sense, that a woman so closely allied as 
you were with Marie-Antoinette, both by ties of blood and 
those of intimate friendship, could not avoid sharing her 
machinations and helping with all your power; you did 
therefore, necessarily, and in accord with the wife of the 
tyrant, instigate the abominable oath taken by the satellites 


98 LIFE AND LETTERS OF [chap. in. 

of the Court to assassinate and annihilate liberty at its 
birth; also you instigated the bloody outrages done to 
that precious sign of liberty^ the tri-colour cockade, by 
ordering your accomplices to trample it under foot. 

A. I have already declared that all those acts are unknown 
to me ; I have no other answer. 

Q. Where were you on the 10th of August ? 

A. I was in the ch&teau, my usual and natural residence 
for some time past. 

Q. Did you not pass the night of the 9th and 10th in your 
brother's room; and did you not have secret conferences 
with lii'ni which explained to you the object and motive 
of all the movements and preparations which were being 
made before your eyes ? 

A. I spent the night you speak of in my brother^s room ; 
I did not leave him ; he had much confidence in me ; and 
yet I never remarked anything in his conduct or in his 
conversation which announced to me what happened 

Q. Tour answer wounds both truth and probability; a 
woman like you, who has manifested through the whole 
course of the Bevolution so striking an opposition to the 
present order of things, cannot be believed when she tries 
to make us think that she was ignorant of the cause of 
those assemblages of all kinds in the chateau on the eve 
of the 10th of August. Will you tell us what prevented you 
from going to bed on the night of the 9th and 10th of 

A. I did not go to bed because the constituted bodies 
had come to tell my brother of the agitation, the excitement 
of the inhabitants of Paris, and the dangers that might re- 
sult from it. 

Q. You dissimulate in vain : especially after the various 


confessions of the widow Capet, who stated that you took 
part in the orgy of the €rardes-du-corps, that you supported 
her under her fears and alarms on the 10th of August as to 
the life of Capet. But what you deny fruitlessly is the 
active part you took in the conflict that ensued between the 
patriots and the satellites of tyranny ; it is your zeal and 
ardour in serving the enemies of the people, in supplying 
them with cartridges, which you took pains to bite, because 
they were directed against patriots and intended to mow 
them down ; it is the desire you have publicly expressed that 
victory should belong to the power and partisans of your 
brother, and the encouragement of all kinds which you have 
given to the murderers of your country. What answer have 
you to these last facts ? 

A. All those acts imputed to me are unworthy deeds 
with which I was very far from staining mysell 

Q. At the time of the journey to Yarennes did you not 
precede the shameful evasion of the tyrant by the subtrac- 
tion of the diamonds called crown diamonds, belonging then 
to the nation, and did you not send them to d'Artois ? 

A. Those diamonds were not sent to d'Artois ; I confined 
myself to giving them into the handfl of a trustworthy 

Q. Will you name the person with whom you deposited 
those diamonds ? 

A. M. de Choiseul was the person I selected to receive 
that trust 

Q. What have become of the diamonds you say you 
confided to Choiseul ? 

A. I am absolutely ignorant of what was the fate of 
those diamonds, not having had an opportunity to see M. de 
Choiseul ; I have had no anxiety, nor have I concerned my- 
self about them. 

100 LIFE AND LETTEB8 OF [ohap. m. 

Q. Tou do not cease to lie on all the questions made to 
jovL, and especially on the matter of the diamonds; for a 
proeis-^oerbal of September 12, 1792, drawn up with full 
knowledge of the circumstances by the representatives of the 
people at the time of the theft of those diamonds, proves, in a 
manner that cannot be denied, that those diamonds were 
sent to d'Artois. Have you not kept up a correspondence 
with your brother, the ci-devant Mansieu/r t 

A. I do not remember having done so since it was 

Q. Did you not yourself stanch and dress the wounds 
of the assassins sent to the Champs Slys^s by your brother 
against the brave Marseillais ? 

A. I never knew that my brother did send assassins 
against any one, no matter who. Although I gave succour 
to some wounded men, humanity alone induced me to dress 
their wounds; I did not need to know the cause of their 
ills to occupy myself with their reliel I make no merit of 
this, and I cannot imagine that a crime can be made of it. 

Q. It is difficult to reconcile the sentiments of humanity 
in which you now adorn yourself with the cruel joy you 
showed on seeing the torrents of blood that flowed on the 
10th of August. All things justify us in believing that you 
are humane to none but the murderers of the people, and 
that you have all the ferocity of the most sanguinary ani- 
mals for the defenders of liberty. Far from succouring the 
latter you instigated their massacre by your applause ; far 
from disarming the murderers of the people you gave them 
with your own hands the instruments of death, by which 
you flattered yourselves, you and your accomplices, that 
tyranny and despotism would be restored. That is the hu- 
manity of despots, who, from all time, have sacrificed mil- 
lions of men to their caprices, to their ambition, and to their 

1793] IfADAMS ]fcLI8ABETH D£ FRANCE. 101 

eapidity. The prisoner Elisabeth, whose plan of defence is 
to deny all that is laid to her cttafge,:will jshe haye4lie sin- 
cerity to admit that she nursed *die*mdeX!)apet *i& I2ie hope 
of succeeding to his father's jifan)ne»:&lfis:ioQ9ii0B))i^ to 

A. I talked familiarly with that unfortunate child, who 
was dear to me from more than one cause, and I gave him, in 
consequence, all the consolations that I thought might com* 
fort him for the loss of those who gave him birth. 

Q. That is admitting, in other terms, that you fed the 
little Capet with the projects of vengeance which you and 
yours have never ceased to form agaiost liberty ; and that 
you flattered yourself to raise the fragments of a shattered 
throne by soaking it in the blood of patriots. 

The president then proceeded to the examination of the 
other prisoners, confining himself to a few insignificant 

[Here the ^ Moniteur," and after it historians, omit all 
mention of the speech of Madame Elisabeth's defender, 
thus leaving it to be supposed that no voice was raised in 
her behall Though the trial was rapid, and all communi* 
cation was prevented between her and her defender, it is a 
known &ct that Chauveau-Lagarde rose after the president 
had ended Madame lllisabeth's examination, and made a 
short plea, of which he has given us himself the substance : 

''I called attention," he says, ''to the fact that in this 
trial there was only a bold accusation, without documents, 
without examination, without witnesses, and that, conse- 
quently, as there was in it no legal element of conviction 
there could be no legal conviction at alL 

** I added that they had nothing against the august prisoner 
but her answers to the questions just put to her, and that 

102 LIFE AND LETTERS OF [chap, iil 

those answers, far from condenming her, ought to honour her 
to all ej^« .because tl^efij^^ved absolutely nothing but the 
goodnessTdf "her heart aiitfl£e heroism of her friendship. 

'' Tj^ebr^it^ (^il6[pm^*thi>^ ideas I ended by saying that 
as there was no ground for a def enoe, I could only present 
for Madame Elisabeth an apology, and even so, I found it 
impossible to make more than one that was worthy of her, 
namely : that a princess who had been a perfect model of 
virtue at the C!ourt of France could not be the enemy of 

^It is impossible to paint the fury with which Dumas 
apostrophized me; reproaching me for having had the 
' audacity to speak ' of what he called ' the pretended virtue 
of the accused, thus attempting to corrupt the public morals.' 
It was easy to see that Madame Elisabeth, who until then 
had remained calm, as if unconscious of her own danger, 
was agitated by that to which I was exposing myseli] 

The report in the ^ Moniteur " continues : — 
After the Public Prosecutor and the defenders had been 
heard, the president declared the debate closed. He then 
summed up the cases and gave to the jury the following 
written paper: — 

^^ Plots and conspiracies have existed, formed by Capet, his 
wife, his family, his agents and his accomplices, in conse- 
quence of which external war on the part of a coalition of 
tyrants has been provoked, also civil war in the interior has 
been raised, succour in men and money have been furnished 
to the enemy, troops have been assembled, plans of campaign 
have been made, and leaders appointed to murder the people, 
annihilate liberty, and restore despotisnL 
" Is Elisabeth Capet an accomplice in these plots ? " 
The jury, after a few moments' deliberation, returned to 


the audience chamber and gave an afi&rmative declaration 
against Madame Elisabeth and the other prisoners [here 
follow the names], who were then condemned to the Penalty 
of Death, ... It was then ordered that, by the diligence 
of the Public Prosecutor, the present judgment shall be ex- 
ecuted within twenty-four hours on the Place de la E^volu- 
tion of this city, and be printed, read, published, and posted 
throughout the extent of the Bepublic. 

As Madame Elisabeth left the Tribunal, Fouquier turned 
to the president and said: ''It must be owned she never 
uttered a complaint." — " What has she to complain of, that 
Elisabeth de France ? " replied Dumas, with ironical gaiety ; 
" have n't we just given her a court of aristocrats who are 
worthy of her ? There will be nothing to prevent her from 
fancying she is back in the salons of Versailles when she 
finds herself at the foot of the guillotine surroimded by all 
those faithful nobles." 

When Madame Elisabeth returned to the prison she asked 
to be taken to the common room, in which were the twenty- 
four persons condemned to die with her on the morrow. 
This room, long, narrow, and dark, was separated from the 
office of the Conciergefie by a door and a glass partition. 
It had no furniture but wooden benches fastened to the 
walls. These, and the following details are given by two 
eye-witnesses who happened to be in the room that night 
though not among the number condenmed to death.^ 

1 One wa« Geoffroy Ferry, who was there as usual to take an inventory 
of the clothes and other articles on the condemned persons ; he gave these 
details to his nephew, attached in 1826 to the ]fccole des Beaux Arts, who 
gave them to the author of the '* Vie de Madame ^felisabeth." The other was 
Marguerite, a maid in the serrice of the Marquis de Fenouil, imprisoned 
in the Conciergerie for refusing to testify against her master. The same 
author obtained these facts from her own lips in 1828. — Fs. Ed. 

104 LIFE AND LETTERS OF [chap. m. 

Joining the poor unfortunates, who were now in different 
stages of agony and fear, Madame Elisabeth took her place 
among them naturally. Such as she had been at Versailles 
and at Montieuil in the midst of other friends, she was here, 
forgetful of herself, mindful of them, and dropping into each 
poor heart by simple words the balm of God's own com- 
fort. She seemed to regard them as friends about to accom- 
pany her to heaven. She spoke to them calmly and gently, 
and soon the serenity of her look, the tranquillity of her 
mind subdued their anguish. The Marquise de S^nozan, the 
oldest of the twenty-four victims, was the first to recover 
courage and offer to Grod the little that remained to her of 
life. Madame de Montmorin, nearly all of whose family 
had been massacred in the Bevolution, could not endure the 
thought of the immolation of her son, twenty years of age, 
who was doomed to die with her. ^' I am willing to die,'' she 
said sobbing, " but I cannot see him die." — " You love your 
son," said Madame Elisabeth, '^ and yet you do not wish him 
to accompany you ; you are going yourself to the joys of 
heaven and you want him to stay upon earth, where -all is 
now torture and sorrow." Under the influence of those 
words Mme. de Montmorin's heart rose to a species of 
ecstasy, her fibres relaxed, her tears flowed, and clasping 
her son in her arms, " Yes, yes I " she cried," we will go 

M. de Lom^nie, former minister of war, and lately mayor 
of Brienne, whom that town and its adjoining districts had 
vainly endeavoured to save, was indignant with a species of 
exaltation, not at being condemned to die, but at hearing 
Fouquier impute to him as a crime the testimony of affection 
and gratitude shown for him by his department. Madame 
Elisabeth went to him and said gently: "If it is fine to 
merit the esteem of your fellow-citizens, think how much 


finer it is to merit the goodness of God. You have shown 
your compatriots how to live rightly ; show them now how 
men die when their conscience is at peace." 

It sometimes happens that timid natures^ the most suscep- 
tible of fear in the ordinary coilrse of life, will heroically 
brave death when a great sentiment inspires them. Madame 
Elisabeth's presence conveyed that inspiration. The Mar- 
quise de Crussol-Amboise was so timid that she dared not 
sleep without two women in her room ; a spider terrified her ; 
the mere idea of an imaginary danger filled her with dread. 
Madame Elisabeth's example transformed her suddenly ; she 
grew calm and firm, and so remained till death. The same 
species of emotion was conveyed to all the others. The calm 
presence of Madame Elisabeth seemed to them in that ter- 
rible hour as if illumined by a reflection from the Divina 
** It is not exacted of us/' she said, *' as it was of the ancient 
martyrs, that we sacrifice our beliefs ; all they ask of us is 
the abandonment of our miserable lives. Let us make that 
feeble sacrifice to God with resignation." 

So, in these last moments of life a great joy was given to 
her ; she revived the numbed or aching hearts, she restored 
the vigour of their faith to fainting souls, she blimted the 
sting of death, and brought to eyes despairing of earth, the 
light of the true deliverance. 

The next morning the gates of the prison opened and the 
carts of the executioner, called by Bai^re '^ the biers of the 
living," came out Madame Elisabeth was in the first with 
others, among them Mme. de Sdnozan and Mme. de Crussol- 
Amboise, to whom she talked during the passage from the 
Conciergerie to the Place Louis XV. Arriving there, she 
was the first to* descend; the executioner offered his hand, 
but the princess looked the other way and needed no help. 
At the foot of the scaffold was a long bench on which the 

106 LITE AND LETTERS OP [chap. hi. 

victims were told to sit. By a refinement of cruelty Ma- 
dame ifclisabeth was placed nearest the steps to the scaffold, 
but she was the last of the twenty-five called to ascend 
them ; she was to see and hear the killing of them all before 
her turn should come. During that time she never ceased 
to say the De profundis ; she who was about to die prayed 
for the dead. 

The first to be called was Mme. de CnissoL She rose im- 
mediately; as she passed Madame Elisabeth she curtsied, 
and then, bending forward, asked to be allowed to kiss her. 
"Willingly, and with all my heart," replied the princess. 
All the other women, ten in number, did likewise. The 
men, as they passed her, each bowed low the head that an 
instant later was to faU into the basket. When the twenty- 
fourth bowed thus before her, she said : " Courage, and faith 
in God's mercy." Then she rose herself, to be ready at the 
caU of the executioner. She mounted firmly the steps of the 
scaffold. Again the man offered his hand, but withdrew it, 
seeing from her bearing that she needed no help. With an 
upward look to heaven, she gave herself into the hands of 
the executioner. As he fastened her to the fatal plank, her 
neckerchief came loose and fell to the ground. ^ In the name 
of your mother, monsieur, cover me," she said. Those were 
her last words. 

At this execution alone, no cries of ** Vive la Eevolution I " 
were raised; the crowd dispersed silently. The eye-witness 
from whose lips this account was written down, added: 
" When I saw the cart on which they were placing the bodies 
and heads of the victims, I fled like the wind." The cart 
held two baskets ; into one of which they threw the mound 
of bodies ; into the other the heap of heads. These were 
taken to the cemetery at Mongeaux, and flung into a grave 
twelve feet square, one upon another, naked, because the 


clothes were a perquisite of the State. In 1816^ Louis 
XYIILy wishing to give his sister Christian burial, ordered 
a search to be made for her remains. The searchers 
fancied they discovered her body, but her head was never 


Bt Cl^et, 
Si8 Vaiet de CJiamire. 






The 10th of Angnut, 1792.— Cl^ry permitted to serve the King and hi* 
Family. — Life and Treatment of Uie Boyal Family in the Tower of the 

I SEBVED the king and his august family five months in 
the Tower of the Temple ; and in spite of the close watching 
of the municipal officers who were the keepers of it^ I was 
able, either in writing or by other means, to take certain 
notes on the principal events which took place in the interior 
of that prison. 

In combining these notes in the form of a journal, my 
intention is more to furnish materials to those who may write 
the history of the deplorable end of the unfortunate Louis 
XYI. than to compose memoirs myself ; for which I have 
neither talent nor pretension. 

Sole and continual witness of the injurious treatment the 
king and his fanuly were made to endure, I alone can write 
it down and affirm the exact truth. 

Though attached since the year 1782 to the royal family, 
and witness, through the nature of my service, of the most 
disastrous events during the coiurse of the Revolution, it would 
be going outside of my subject to describe them ; they are. 

112 MADAME :§:LISABETH DE FRANCE. [chap. i. 

for the most part^ already collected in different works. I 
shall begin this journal at the period of August 10, 1792, 
dreadful day, when a few men overturned a throne of four- 
teen centuries, put their king in fetters, and precipitated 
France into an abyss of horrors. 

I was on service with the dauphin at that period. From 
the morning of the 9th the agitation in the minds of all was 
extreme; groups were forming throughout Paris, and we 
heard with certainty in the Tuileries that the conspirators 
had a plan. The tocsin was to ring at midnight in all parts 
of the city, and the Marseillais, uniting with the inhabitants 
of the faubourg Saint-Antoine, were to march at once and 
besiege the chateau. Detained by my functions in the apart- 
ment of the young prince and beside his person, I knew only 
in part what was happening outside. I shall here relate 
none but events which I witnessed during that day when so 
many different scenes took place even in the palace. 

On the evening of the 9th at half-past eight o'clock, hav- 
ing put the dauphin to bed, I left the Tuileries to try to learn 
what was the state of public opinion. The courtyards of the 
chateau were filled with about eight thousand National guards 
from the different sections, placed there to defend the king. 
I went to the Palais-Eoyal, of which I foimd all the exits 
closed; National guards were there under arms, ready to 
march to the Tuileries and support the battalions already 
there ; but a populace, excited by factious persons, filled the 
neighbouring streets, and its clamour resounded on all sides. 

I re-entered the chftteau towards eleven o'clock through 
the kii^s apartments. The persons belonging to the Court, 
and those on duty were collected there in a state of anxiety. 
I passed on to the dauphin's apartment, where, an instant 
later, I heard the tocsin rung and the gSnSrale beaten in all 
quarters of Paris. I remained in the salon until five in the 


morning with Mme. de Saint-Brioe, waiting-woman to the 
young prince. At six o'dock the king went down into all 
the courtyards of the chateau and reviewed the National 
Guard and the Swiss Guard, who swore to defend him. The 
queen and her children followed the king. A few seditious 
voices were heard in the ranks, but they were soon smothered 
by the shouts, repeated hundreds of times, of *' Vive le roi I 
Vive la nation ! " 

The attack on the Tuileries not seeming near as yet, I went 
out a second time and followed the quays as far as the Pont 
Neuf. I met everywhere collections of armed men whose 
bad intentions were not doubtful ; they carried pikes, pitch- 
forks, axes, and pruning-hooka The battalion of the Mar- 
seillais marched in fine order with cannon, matches lighted ; 
they invited the people to follow them " to aid," they said, 
" in dislodging the tyrant and proclaiming his dethronement 
before the National Assembly." Too certain now of what 
was going to happen, but consulting only my duty, I went 
ahead of this battalion and re-entered the Tuileries. A 
numerous body of National guards were pouring out in dis- 
order through the gate of the gardens opposite the Pont-BoyaL 
Distress was painted on the faces of most of them. Several 
said : ^ We swore this morning to defend the king, and at 
the moment when he runs the greatest danger we abandon 
him ! " Others, on the side of the conspirators insulted and 
threatened their comrades and forced them to go away. The 
good men let themselves be ruled by the seditious ; and this 
culpable weakness, which, so far, had produced £dl the evils of 
the Bevolution, was the beginning of the misfortunes of that 
fatal day. 

After many fruitless attempts to re-enter the chateau, I 
was recognized by the Swiss Guard of one of the gates, and 
I succeeded in entering. I went at once to the king's apart- 


114 MADAACE Elisabeth de fbance. [chap. i. 

ment^ and begged that some one on service would infonn His 
Majesty of what I had seen and heard 

At seven o'clock, anxiety was greatly increased by the 
baseness of several battalions which successively abandoned 
the Tuileries. Those of the National Guard who remained 
at their post, in number about four or five hundred, showed 
as much fidelity as couraga They were placed, indiscrimin- 
ately with the Swiss, about the interior of the palace, on the 
staircases, and at all the exits. These troops had passed the 
night without food ; I hastened, with other servants of the 
king, to carry them bread and wine, and encourage them not 
to abandon the royal family. It was then that the king 
gave the command of the interior of his palace to the Mar^- 
chal de MaUly, the Due du Ghfttelet, the Comte de Puys^gur, 
the Baron de Yiomesnil, the Count d'Hendlly, the Marquis 
du Pajet, etc. The persons of the Court, and those on ser- 
vice were distributed into the different rooms, after swearing 
to defend till death the person of the king. We were, in all, 
about three or four hundred, but without other arms than 
swords and pistols. 

At eight o'clock the danger became pressing. The Legis- 
lative Assembly held its meetings in the Biding-school, which 
looked upon the garden of the Tuileries. The king sent sev- 
eral messages informing it of the position in which he was 
placed, and inviting it to appoint a deputation which would 
aid him with advice. The Assembly, although the attack on 
the chftteau was preparing before its eyes, made no reply. 

A few moments later the department of Paris and several 
mimicipals entered the ch&teau, with Boederer, then prosecu- 
tor-general, at their head. Eoederer, doubtless in collusion 
with the conspirators, urged His Majesty eagerly to go with 
his family to the Assembly ; he assiu«d the king that he 
could no longer rely on the National Guard, and that if he 


remained in the palace^ neither the department nor the mmii- 
cipality of Paris would be answerable for his safety. 

The king listened without emotion ; he retired to his cham- 
ber with the queen, the ministers, and a small number ot 
persons ; and, soon after, came out of it to go with his family 
to the Assembly. He was surrounded by a detachment of 
the Swiss and the National Guard. Of all the persons on 
duty, the Princesse de Lamballe and Mme. de Tourzel were 
the only ones who had permission to f oUow the royal family. 
Mme. de Tourzel was obliged, in order that the young prince 
might not go unattended, to leave her daughter, seventeen 
years of age, in the Tuileries among the soldiers. It was 
then nearly nine o'clock. 

Forced .to remain in the apartments, I waited with terror 
the results of the king's action ; I was near the windows that 
looked into the garden. It was more than an hour after the 
royal family had entered the Assembly, when I saw on the 
terrace of the Feuillants four heads on pikes which were 
being carried towards the Assembly. That was, I think, the 
signal for the attack on the ch&teau, for, at the same moment, 
a terrible fire of cannon and musketry was heard. The balls 
and the bullets riddled the palace. The king no longer 
being there, every one thought of his own safety ; but all the 
exits were closed and certain death awaited us. I ran hither 
and thither ; already the apartments and the staircases were 
heaped with dead ; I determined to spring upon the terrace 
through one of the windows of the queen's apartment. I 
crossed the parterre rapidly to reach the Pont-Toumant. A 
number of the Swiss Guard who had preceded me were rally- 
ing under the trees. Placed thus, between two fires, I re- 
turned upon my steps to reach the new stairway to the 
terrace on the water-side. I meant to jump upon the quay, 
but a continual fire from the Pont-Boyal prevented me. I 

116 icADAME Elisabeth de fbancb. [chap. i. 

went along the same side to the gate of the dauphin's gaiv 
den ; there, some Marseillais who had just massacred several 
Swiss were stripping the bodies. One of them came to me. 
" What, citizen," he said, ** have you no arms ? Take this 
sword and help us to kilL" Another Marseillais snatched 
the weapon. I was, in fact, without arms and wearing a 
plain coat ; had anything indicated that I was on service in 
the palace, I should certaioly not have escaped. 

Several Swiss, being pursued, took refuge in a stable not 
far ofif. I myself hid there ; the Swiss were soon massacred 
at my side. Hearing the cries of those unhappy victims, the 
master of the house, M. le Dreuz, rushed in. I profited by 
that moment to slip into his house. Without knowing me, 
M. le Dreux and his wife asked me to remain until the 
danger was over. 

I had in my pocket some letters and newspapers ad- 
dressed to the young prince; also my entrance-card to the 
Tuileries, on which was written my name and the nature of 
my service ; these papers would have made me known. I 
had barely time to throw them away before an armed 
troop searched the house to make sure that no Swiss were 
hidden there. M. le Dreux told me to pretend to be 
working at some drawings lying on a large table. After 
a fruitless search, the men, their hands stained with blood, 
stopped to coldly relate their murders. I remained in that 
asylum from ten in the morning till four in the afternoon, 
having before my eyes the horrors committed on the Place 
Louis XV. Some men murdered, others cut ofif the heads 
of the bodies, women, forgetting all decency, mutilated the 
bodies, tore ofif the fragments, and carried them in triumph. 

During this interval, Mme. de Bambaut, waiting-woman 
to the dauphin, who had with difl&culty escaped from the 
massacre at the Tuileries, came to take refuge in the same 


house; a few signs that we made to. each other enjoined 
silence. The sons of our host^ coming in at that moment 
from the National Assembly, informed us that the king, 
" suspended from his functions," was closely guarded, with 
the royal family, in the box of the reporter of the " Logo- 
graphe," and that it was impossible to approach him. 

That being so, I resolved to go to my wife and children, 
in a country place, five leagues from Paris, where I had 
had a house for two years; but the barriers were closed, 
and, moreover, I could not abandon Mme. de Bambaut. 
We agreed to take the route to Versailles, where she lived ; 
the sons of our host accompanied us. We crossed the 
bridge, Louis XV., which was covered with naked dead 
bodies, already putrefying in the great heat, and after many 
dangers we left Paris through a breach which was not 

On the plain of Grenelle, we were met by peasants on 
horseback, who shouted at us from a distance, and threat- 
ened us with their guns : " Stop, or death ! " One of them, 
taking me for a guard, aimed and was about to shoot me, 
when another proposed to take us to the municipality of 
Vaugirard. "There is already a score of them there," he 
said; "the killing will be all the greater." Eeaching the 
mimicipality, our host's sons were recognized: the mayor 
questioned me: "Why, when the country is in danger, 
are you not where you belong? Why are you leaving 
Paris ? That shows bad intentions." " Yes, yes," cried the 
populace, "to prison, those aristocrats, to prison!" "It is 
precisely because I am on my way to where I belong, that 
you find me on the road to Versailles, where I live ; that is 
my post just as much as this is yours." They questioned 
Mme. de Eambaut; our host assured them we spoke the 
truth, and they gave us passports. I ought to render thanks 

118 MADAME Elisabeth de france. [cHiip. i. 

to Providence for not having been taken to the prison of 
Vaugirard; where they had just put twenty-three of the 
king's guards, who were afterwards taken to the Abbaye 
and massacred there, on the 2d of September. 

From Vaugirard to Versailles, patrols of armed men 
stopped us continually to examine our passports. I took 
Mme. Bambaut to her parents, and then started to return to 
my family. A fall I had in jumping from the window of 
the Tuileries, the fatigue of a tramp of twelve leagues, and 
my painful reflections on the deplorable events which had 
just taken place, overcame me to such a degree that I had 
a very high fever. I was in bed three days, but, impatient 
to know the fate of the king, I surmounted my illness and 
returned to Paris. 

On arriving there I heard that the royal family, after 
being kept since the 10th at the Feuillants, had just been 
taken to the Temple; that the king had chosen to serve 
him M. de ChamiUy, his head valet de charribre, and that 
M. Hu^, usher of the king's bedchamber, was to serve the 
dauphin. The Princesse de LambaUe, Mme. de Tourzel, 
and her daughter. Mile. Pauline de Tourzel, had accom- 
panied the queen. Mmes. Thibaut, Bazire, Navarre, and 
Saint-Brice, waiting-women, had followed the three prin- 
cesses and the young prince. 

I then lost all hope of continuing my functions towards 
the dauphin, and I was about to return to the country 
when, on the sixth day of the king's imprisonment, I was 
informed that all the persons who were in the Tower with 
the royal family, had been removed, and, after examination 
before the council of the Commune of Paris, were consigned 
to the prison of La Force, with the sole exception of M. 
Hue, who was taken back to the Temple to serve the king. 
Potion, then mayor of Paris, was charged with the duty of 


selecting two others. Leaming of these airangements, I 
resolved to try every possible means to resume my place 
in the service of the young prince. I went to see Potion ; 
he told me that as I had belonged to the household of the 
king, I could not obtain the consent of the Communa I 
cited M. Hue> who had just been sent by the council itself^ 
to serve the king. Pdtion promised to support a memorial 
which I gave him, but I told him it was necessary above 
all, that he should inform the king of this step. Two days 
later, he wrote to His Majesty as foUows : — 

" Sire, — The vakt de charribre attached to the prince-royal 
from infancy asks to be allowed to continue his service with 
him; as I think the proposal will be agreeable to you, I 
have acceded to his request," etc. 

His Majesty answered in writing that he accepted me for 
the service of his son, and, in consequence, I was taken to 
the Templa There, I was searched ; they gave me advice 
as to the manner in which, they said, I must conduct my- 
self ; and the same day, August 26, at eight in the evening, 
I entered the Tower of the Templa 

It would be difficult for me to describe the impression 
made upon me by the sight of that august and unfortunate 
family. The queen was the one who spoke to ma After a 
few words of kindness, she added : " You will serve my son, 
and you will arrange with M. Hu6 in all that concerns 
us." I was so oppressed with feelings that I could scarcely 
answer her. 

During the supper, the queen and the princesses, who had 
been a week without their women, asked me if I could comb 
their hair ; I replied that I would do whatever they desired 
of ma A municipal officer thereupon came up to me, and 
told me to be more circumspect in my answers. I was 
frightened at such a b^inning. 


During the first eight days that I passed in the Temple, I 
had no communication with the exterior. M. Hu^' was alone 
charged with asking for and receiving the things necessary 
for the royal family; I served conjointly and indiscrimi- 
nately with him. My service to the king was confined to 
dressing his hair in the morning and rolling it at night ; I 
noticed that I was watched incessantly by the municipal 
officers ; a mere nothing displeased them ; I kept on my 
guard to avoid any imprudence, which would infallibly have 
ruined me. 

On the 2d of September, there was much disturbance 
around the Temple. The king and his family went down 
as usual to walk in the garden ; a municipal who followed the 
king said to one of his colleagues : " We did wrong to con- 
sent to let them walk this afternoon." I had noticed aU that 
morning the uneasiness of the commissioners. They now 
hurried the royal family into the building ; but they were 
scarcely assembled in the queen's room before two municipal 
officers who were not on duty at the Tower entered. One of 
them, Matthieu; an ex-capucin friar, said to the king : '^ You 
are ignorant of what is going on; the country is in the great- 
est danger; the enemy has entered Champagne; the King 
of Prussia is marching on Ch&lons ; you are answerable for 
all the harm that will come of it. We, our wives and 
children, may perish, but you first, before us; the people 
will be avenged." — "I have done all for the people," said 
the king ; ^ I have nothing to reproach myself with." 

This same Matthieu said to M. Hug : ^ The Council has 
ordered me to put you under arrest" "Who?" asked 
the king. "Your valet de ehambre'* The king wished to 
know of what crime he was accused, but could learn noth- 
ing, which made him very uneasy as to M. Hug's fate ; he 
recommended him earnestly to the two municipal officers. 


Thej put the seals on the little room he had occupied, and 
he went away with them at six o'clock in the evening after 
having passed twenty days in the Temple. As he went out, 
Matthieu said to me : ** Take care how you behave, or the 
same thing may happen to you." 

The king called me a moment after, and gave me some 
papers which M. HuS had returned to him ; they were ac- 
counts of expenditures. The uneasy air of the municipals, 
the clamour of the people in the neighbourhood of the 
Tower, agitated his heart cruelly. After he had gone to bed, 
he told me to pass the night beside him ; I placed a bed be- 
side that of His Majesty. 

On the 3d of September, while I was dressing the king, 
he asked me if I had heard anything of M. Hu6, and if I 
knew any news of Paris. I answered that during the night 
I had heard a municipal say that the people were attacking 
the prisons, and that I would try to get more information. 
" Take care not to compromise yourself," said the king, " for 
then we should be left alone, and I fear their intention is to 
surround us with strangers." 

At eleven o'clock that morning, Uie king being with his 
family in the queen's room, a municipal told me to go into 
that of the king, where I should find Manuel and several 
members of the Commune. Manuel asked me what the 
king had said about M. Hu^'s removal I answered that 
His Majesty was uneasy at it. '^ Nothing will happen to 
him," he said, '' but I am ordered to inform the king that he 
will not return, and that the Council will put some one in 
his place. You can warn the king of this." I begged him 
to excuse me from doiog so ; I added that the king desired 
to see him in regard to many things, of which the royal fam- 
ily was in the greatest need. Manuel, vrith difficulty, made 
up his mind to go into the room where His Majesty was ; he 

122 MADAME :£:LISABETH D£ FRANCE. [ohap. i. 

then told him of the decision of the Council, in relation to 
M. Hu^, and warned him that another person would be sent 
** I thank you," replied the king, " but I shall use the ser- 
vices of my son's valet de chambre, and if the Council op- 
poses it, I shall serve mysell I am resolved on this." 
Manuel said he would speak of it to the Council, and 
retired. I asked him, as I showed him out, if the disturb- 
ances in Paris continued. He made me fear by his answers 
that the people would attack the Temple. " You are charged 
with a difficult duty," he added. " I exhort you to courage." 

At one o'clock the king and his family expressed a wish 
to take their walk ; it was refused. During dinner the noise 
of drums and the shouts of the populace were heard. The 
royal family left the dinner table in a state of anxiety, and 
again collected in the queen's room. I went down to dine 
with Tison and his wife, who were employed as servants in 
the Tower. 

We were hardly seated before a head at the end of a pike 
was presented at the window. Tison's wife screamed loudly ; 
the murderers thought it was the queen's voice, and we heard 
the frantic laughs of those barbarians. Thinking that Her 
Majesty was still at table, they had raised the victim's head 
so that it could not escape her sight ; it was that of the Prin- 
cesse de LambaUe. Though bloody, it was not disfigured ; 
her blond hair, still curling, floated around the pike. 

I ran at once to the king. Terror had so changed my face 
that the queen noticed it ; it was important to hide the cause 
from her ; I meant to warn the king and Madame Elisabeth ; 
but the two municipals were present. *' Why do you not go 
to dinner ? " asked the queen. " Madame," I answered, " I do 
not feel well." At that moment a mimicipal entered the 
room and spoke mysteriously with his colleagues. The 
king asked if his family were in safety. ^' There is a 

1792] THE CAFnvnT OF LOUIS XVI. 128 

Tomour going/' they replied, ^ that you and joxa family are 
no longer in the Tower ; the people want you to appear at 
the window, but we shall not allow it; the people ought to 
show more confidence in their magistrates." 

The cries and shouts outside increased; we heard, very 
distinctly, insults addressed to the queen. Another munici- 
pal came in, followed by four men deputed by the people to 
make sure that the king and his family were in the Tower. 
One of them, in the uniform of the National Guard, wearing 
two epaulets and carrying a large sabre, insisted that the pris- 
oners should show themselves at the window. The munici- 
pals opposed it The man then said to the queen in the 
coarsest tone: "They want to prevent your seeing the 
Lamballe's head, which has been brought here to show you 
how the people avenge themselves on tyrants ; I advise you 
to appear." The queen fainted ; I ran to her support ; Mar 
dame Elisabeth helped me to place her in an arm-chair; her 
children burst into tears and tried by their caresses to bring 
her to. The man did not go away ; the king said to him 
firmly: ".We expect everything, monsieur; but you might 
have refrained from telling the queen of that dreadful 
thing." The man then went out with his comrades ; their 
object was accomplished. 

The queen, recovering her senses, wept with her children, 
and passed with the family into the room of Madame Elisa- 
beth, where less was heard of the clamours of the populace. 
I remained a moment longer in the queen's room, and, look- 
ing out of the window through the blinds, I saw the head of 
Madame de Lamballe a second time ; the man who carried 
it had mounted a pile of rubbish, fallen from the houses they 
were demolishing to isolate the Tower ; another man beside 
him carried the bloody heart of the unfortunate princess. 
They wanted to force in the door of the Tower ; a municipal, 

124 MAP A MR Elisabeth db fbakce. iobat. l 

named Daujeon, harangued them, and I veiy distinctly 
heard him say: "The head of Antoinette does not belong 
to you; the department has rights; France confided the 
keeping of these great criminals to the city of Paris; it 
is for you to help us to keep them until national justice 
avenges the people." It was only after one hour's resistance 
that he succeeded in making them go away. 

On the evening of the same day one of the commissioners 
told me that the populace had attempted to enter with the 
deputation, and to carry into the tower the naked and bloody 
corpse of Madame de Lamballe, which they had dragged from 
the prison of La Force to the Temple; he said that the mu- 
nicipals, after struggling for some time with the mob, finally 
opposed them by tying a tri-colour ribbon across the prin- 
cipal entrance to the Tower; that they had vainly requested 
the help of the Commune of Paris, of Greneral Santerre, and 
of the National Assembly, to stop designs which were not 
concealed, and that for sis: hours it was uncertain whether 
the royal family would or would not be massacred. The 
truth is the factious were not yet all-powerful ; the leaders, 
though agreed as to the regicide, were not agreed as to the 
method of executing it, and perhaps the Assembly desired 
that other hands than its own should be the instrument of 
the conspiracy. A circumstance sufficiently remarkable is 
that the municipal made me pay him forty sous which the 
tri-colour ribbon had cost him. 

By eight o'clock that evening all was quiet in the neigh- 
bourhood of the Tower, but the same tranquillity was very 
far from reigning in Paris, where the massacres continued 
for four or five days. I had an opportunity while undress- 
ing the king to tell him what I had seen and give him the 
details I had heard. He asked me which were the muni- 
cipals who had shown the greatest firmness in defending the 


lives of his family. I told him of Daujeon, who had checked 
the impetuosity of the people, though he was far from being 
in favour of the king. That municipal did not return to the 
Tower until four months later, but the king remembered his 
conduct and thanked him then. 

The scenes of horror of which I have just spoken were 
followed by some tranquillity, so that the royal family con- 
tinued the uniform system of life which they had adopted 
on entering the Temple. That the reader may foUow its 
details easily, I think I ought to place here a description of 
the 9maU tower in which the king was then confined. 

It backed upon the large Tower, without any interior com- 
munication between the two, and it formed an oblong square 
flanked by two small, comer towers [taurelles]. In one of 
these small towers was a little staircase that started from 
the second floor and led up to a gallery along the eaves ; in 
the other were little cabinets which were alike on each floor 
of the tower. 

The building had four floors. The first was composed of 
an antechamber, a dining-room, and a cabinet made in one 
of the tourelles, in which was a library of some twelve to 
fifteen hundred volumes. 

The second floor was divided in about the same manner. 
The largest room was made the bed-chamber of the queen 
and the dauphin ; the second room, separated from the first 
by a small and dark antechamber, was the bedroom of Ma- 
dame filisabeth and Madame Boyale. It was necessary 
to cross this room to enter the cabinet made in the tourelle, 
and that cabinet, which served as a privy to the entire main 
building, was common to the royal family, the municipal 
officers, and the soldiers. 

The king lived on the third floor, and slept in the large 
room. The cabinet made in the tourelle was used by him 


as a reading-room. On one side was a kitchen, separated 
from the king's bedchamber by a small dark room, occupied 
at first by MM. de Chamilly and Hu6 and now sealed up. 
The fourth floor was closed and locked. On the ground-floor 
were kitchens of which no use was made. 

The king rose usually at six in the morning ; he shaved 
himself, and I arranged his hair and dressed him. He went 
at once into his reading-room. That room being very small 
the municipal guarding the king sat in the bedroom, the door 
beiog half-open in order that he might not lose sight of 
the person of the king. His Majesty prayed on his knees 
for five or six minutes, and then read till nine o'clock. Dur- 
ing that time, and after having done his room and prepared 
the table for breakfast, I went down to the queen. She 
never opened her door until I came, so as to prevent the 
mimicipal from entering her bedroom. I then dressed the 
young prince and arranged the queen's hair ; after which I 
went to perform the same service to Madame Elisabeth and 
Madame Boyale. This moment of their toilet was one of 
those in which I could tell the queen and the princess what 
I heard and what I knew. A sign told them I had some- 
thing to say, and one of them would then talk to the mimi- 
cipal officer to distract his attention. 

At nine o'clock the queen, her children and Madame 
Elisabeth went up to the king's room to breakfast ; after 
having served them I did the bedrooms of the queen and the 
princesses ; Tison and his wife helped me only in that sort 
of work. It was not for service only that they had been 
placed where they were ; a more important r6le was confided 
to them, namely : to observe all that might escape the vigi- 
lance of the municipals, and also to denounce the municipals 
themselves. Crimes to be committed no doubt entered the 
plan of those who selected them, for the Tison woman, who 


seemed then of a rather gentle nature and who trembled 
before her husband, afterwards revealed herself by an infa- 
mous denunciation of the queen, which was followed by a fit 
of insanity. Tison himself, formerly a derk in the customs, 
was an old man, hard and malignant by nature, incapable of 
an emotion of pity, and destitute of all feelings of humanity. 
Beside those who were the virtuous of the earth the con- 
spirators had chosen to place those that were vUest. 

At ten o'clock the king came down with his family into 
the queen's room and passed the day there. He occupied 
himself with the education of his son, made him recite pas- 
sages from ComeUle and Bacine, gave him lessons in geog- 
raphy, and taught him to colour maps. The precocious 
intelligence of the young prince responded perfectly to the 
tender care of the king. His memory was so good that on 
a map covered with a sheet of paper he could point out the 
departments, districts, towns, and the course of the rivers ; it 
was the new geography of France that the king was teaching 
him. The queen, on her side, was occupied with the educa- 
tion of her daughter, and these different lessons lasted till 
eleven o'clock. The rest of the morning she spent in 
sewing, knitting, and doing tapestry. At midday the three 
princesses went into Madame Elisabeth's room to change 
their morning gowns ; no mimicipal went with them. 

At one o'clock, if the weather was fine, the royal family 
were taken down into the garden; four municipal officers 
and a captain of the National Guard accompanied them. As 
there were quantities of workmen about the Temple, employed 
in pulling down houses and building new walls, the royal 
family were allowed to walk only in the horse-chestnut 
alley. I was permitted to share these walks, during which 
I made the young prince play either at quoits, or football, or 
running, or other games of exercise. 


At two o'clock they returned to the Tower, where I served 
the dinner; and eveiy day at the same hour Santerre, a 
brewer, general-commanding the National Guard of Paris, 
came to the Temple, accompanied by two aides-de-camp. 
He searched the different rooms. Sometimes the king spoke 
to him ; the queen never. After the meal, the royal family 
returned to the queen's room where Their Majesties usually 
played games at piquet or backgammon. It was during that 
time that I dined. 

At four o'clock the king took a short rest ; the princesses 
sat by him, each with a book in her hand ; the deepest si- 
lence reigned during that nap. What a spectacle ! a king 
pursued by hatred and calumny, fallen from a throne to a 
prison, yet sustained by his conscience and sleeping peace- 
fully the sleep of the just ! his wife, his sister, his children 
contemplating with respect those august features, the serenity 
of which seemed increased by troubles, so that even then 
there could be read upon them the peace he enjoys to-day ! 
No, that sight will never be effaced from my memory. 

When the king awoke, conversation was resumed. He 
made me sit beside him. I gave, under his eyes, writing- 
lessons to the young prince; and I copied out, under his 
selection, passages from the works of Montesquieu and other 
celebrated authors. After this lesson, I took the little prince 
into Madame Elisabeth's chamber, where I made him play 
ball or battledore and shuttlecock. 

At the close of the day the royal family sat round a table ; 
the queen read aloud books of history or other well-chosen 
works suitable to instruct and amuse her children; some- 
times unexpected scenes corresponding to her own situation 
occurred and gave rise to painful thoughts. Madame Elisa- 
beth read also in turn, and the reading lasted till eight 
o'clock. I then served the supper of the young prince in 


Madame Elisabeth's bedroom ; the royal family were present ; 
the king took pleasure in amusing his children by making 
them guess the answers to conundrums taken from a file 
of the ** Mercure de France " which he had found in the 

After the dauphin's supper, I undressed him ; it was the 
queen who heard him say his prayers ; he said one especially 
for the Princesse de Lamballe; and by another he asked 
God to protect the life of Mme. de Tourzel, his governess. 
If the municipals were very near, the little prince himself 
took the precaution to say these last two prayers in a low 
voice. I then made him go into the cabinet, and if I had 
anything to tell the queen, I seized that moment. I told her 
what the newspapers contained, for none were allowed to 
enter the Tower; but a street-crier, sent expressly, came 
every evening at seven o'clock and stood near the wall on 
the rotunda side within the Temple inclosure, where he 
cried, with several pauses, a summary of what was taking 
place in the National Assembly, the commune, and the armies. 
I stationed myself in the king's cabinet to listen ; and there, 
in the silence, it was easy to remember what I heard. 

At nine o'clock the king supped. The queen and Ma- 
dame tilisabeth took turns to remain with the dauphin 
during this meal ; I carried to them what they desired for 
supper ; that was another opportunity to speak to them with- 
out witnesses. 

After supper the king went up for a moment into the 
queen's room, gave her his hand in sign of adieu, also to his 
sister, and kissed his children; then he went to his own 
room, retired into his cabinet and read there till midnight 
The queen and the princesses closed the doors of their rooms ; 
one of the municipals remained all night in the little room 
between their two chambers ; the other followed Uie king. 



I then placed my bed beside that of the king; but His 
Majesty waited, before going to bed, till the municipals were 
changed and the new one came up, in order to know which 
one it was, and if he was one the king did not know, he 
always told me to ask his name. The municipals were re- 
lieved at eleven in the morning, at five in the afternoon, and 
at midnight. The above manner of life lasted the whole 
time that the king was in the little tower, that is to say, 
until September 30. 

I now resume the course of events. September 4th 
Potion's secretary came to the Tower to remit to the king 
a sum of two thousand francs in assigrtats ; he exacted from 
the king a receipt His Majesty requested him to pay M. 
Hu6 five hundred and twenty-siK francs, which he had 
advanced in his service; the secretary promised that he 
would. That sum of two thousand francs was all that was 
ever paid, although the Legislative Assembly voted five hun- 
dred thousand francs for the expenses of the king in the 
Tower of the Temple ; but this was before it perceived the 
real intentions of its leaders, or dared to share them. 

Two days later, Madame Elisabeth made me collect a 
number of little articles belonging to the Princesse de Lam- 
balle which she had left in the Tower when suddenly taken 
away from it. I made a package and addressed it, with a 
letter, to the princess's waiting-woman. I heard later that 
neither package nor letter reached her. 

At this period, the character of most of the municipals 
chosen to come to the Temple shows what manner of men 
had been used by the leaders for the revolution of August 
10, and for the massacres of the 2d of September. 

A municipal named James, a teacher of the English 
language, chose, one day, to follow the king into his little 
reading-room, and sit beside him. The king told him in a 


mild way that his colleagues always left him alone there ; 
that, the door remaining open, he could not escape his sight, 
and that the room was so small two persons could not re- 
main in it. James insisted in a harsh and vulgar way, and 
the king was forced to yield; he gave up his reading for 
that day, and returned to his chamber, where the same 
municipal continued to torment him with the same tyran- 
nical surveillance. 

One day, when the king rose, he mistook the municipal 
on guard for the one of the night before, and he said with 
interest that he was sorry they had forgotten to relieve 
him; the municipal answered this impulse of kind feeling 
on the part of the king with insults. "I come here," he 
said, " to keep watch on your conduct, and not for you to 
take notice of mine." Then, coming close up to the king, 
his hat on his head, he added : '' No one, and you less than 
any one, has the right to meddle with me." He was inso- 
lent for the rest of the day. I heard afterwards that his 
name was Meunier. 

Another commissioner, named Le Clerc, a doctor by 
profession, was in the queen's room while I was giving a 
writing lesson to the dauphin. He afiPected to interrupt 
our work, with a dissertation on the republican education 
that ought to be given to the young prince ; he wished to 
have the most revolutionary works substituted for the 
books the child read. 

A fourth was present when the queen was reading to 
her children a volume of the history of France, at the 
period when the Conn^table de Bourbon took arms against 
his country; he declared that the queen wished by that 
example to inspire her son with feelings of vengeance 
against France, and he made a formal denunciation to the 
OounciL I warned the queen, who, after that, chose her 

132 MADAME Elisabeth de fbance. [chap. x. 

subjects in a way that prevented any one from calumniat- 
ing her intentions. 

A man named Simon, a shoemaker and a municipal 
officer, was one of six commissioners charged with the 
duty of inspecting the works and expenditures of the 
Temple; but he was the only one who, under pretence 
of properly fulfilling his office, never quitted the Tower. 
This man affected the lowest insolence whenever he was 
in presence of the royal family ; often he would say to me, 
close to the king, so that His Majesty might hear him: 
'^ Cl^iy, ask Capet if he wants an}rthing, for I can't take the 
trouble to come up a second time." I was forced to answer, 
^ He wants nothing." It was this Simon who, at a later 
period, was put in charge of the young Louis, and who, by a 
well-calculated barbarity, made that interesting child so 
wretched. There is reason to think that he was the tool of 
those who shortened the prince's life. 

To teach the young prince how to reckon, I made, by order 
of the queen, a multiplication-table. A municipal declared 
that she was showing her son how to talk in cipher, and 
they made her renounce the lessons in arithmetic. 

The same thing happened in regard to the tapestry at 
which the queen and the princesses worked when they 
were first imprisoned. Several chair-backs being finished, 
the queen directed me to have them sent to the Duchesse 
de S^rent The municipals, from whom I asked permission, 
thought the designs represented hieroglyphics, destined to 
open a correspondence with the outside ; consequently they 
obtained a decree by which it was forbidden to allow any 
work done by the princesses, to leave the Tower. 

Some of the commissioners never spoke of the king and 
queen, the prince and the princesses, without adding the 
most insulting epithets to their names. A municipal^ 


named Turlot, said one day before me, '^ If the ezecutioner 
does n't guillotine that 8 . . . family, I 'U do it myself." 

The king and his family, when going to walk, had to pass 
before a great many sentinels, some of whom, even at this 
time, were posted in the interior of the little tower. They 
presented arms to the municipals and officers of the 
National Guard, who accompanied the king, but when the 
king passed them, they grounded their muskets, or pointedly 
reversed them. One of these sentinels, posted inside the 
tower, wrote one day on the door of the king's chamber: 
^The guillotine is permanent, and is awaiting the tyrant, 
Louis XYI." The king read the words; I made a motion 
to efface them, but His Majesty opposed it. 

One of the two porters of the Tower, named Eocher, a 
horrible object, dressed as a Sapeur, with long moustaches, 
a black fur cap on his head, a large sabre and a belt from 
which hung a bunch of big keys, presented himself at the 
door whenever the king wished to go out; he would 
never open it till the king was dose beside it, and then, 
under pretence of choosing the right key from his enor- 
mous bunch, which he rattled with a frightful noise, he 
kept the royal family waiting, and drew back the bolt 
with a crash. Then he would hurry down the stairs, and 
stand by the last, door, a long pipe in his mouth, and as 
each member of the royal family passed him he would 
puff the smoke in their faces, especially those of the prin- 
cesses. Some of the National guards, who were amused by 
such insolence, would gather near him, and laugh loudly at 
each puff of smoke, permitting themselves to say the 
coarsest things; some, to enjoy the spectacle more at 
their ease, would even bring chairs from the guard-room, 
and, sitting down, obstructed the passage, already very 

134 MADAM£ Elisabeth de france. [chap. i. 

During the promenade of the family the artillery-men 
assembled to dance and sing songs, — always revolutionary, 
and sometimes obscene. 

When the royal family returned to the Tower they were 
forced to endure the same insults; often the walls were 
covered with most indecent apostrophes, written in such large 
letters that they could not escape their eye, such as : " Madame 
Veto shall dance;" "We will put the fat pig on diet;" 
'* Down with the Cordon rouge ; " " Strangle the cubs ; " etc. 
Once they drew a gibbet on which dangled a figure, and 
beneath it was written: ''Louis taking an air bath." At 
another time it was a guillotine with these words : '' Louis 
spitting into the basket." 

Thus the little walk in the garden granted to the royal 
family became a torture. The king and queen might have 
escaped it by remaining in the Tower, but their children, the 
objects of their tenderness, needed the air ; it was for them 
that Their Majesties endured daily without complaint these 
innumerable outrages. 

Nevertheless, some signs of fidelity or pity came at times 
to soften the horror of these persecutions, and were all the 
more remarked because so rare. 

A sentinel mounted guard one day at the queen's door ; he 
belonged to the faubourgs, and was dean in his dress, which 
was that of a peasant I was alone in the first room read- 
ing. He looked at me attentively and seemed much moved. 
I rose and passed before him. He presented arms and said 
in a trembling voice, " You cannot go out." ** Why not ? " 
" My orders are to keep you within sight." " You mistake 
me," I said. "What! monsieur, are you not the king?" 
" Then you do not know him ? " "I have never seen him, 
and I would like to see him away from here." ''Speak 
low;" I said, "I shall enter that room and leave the door 


half open ; look in and yon will see the king ; he is sitting 
by the window with a book in his hand." I told the queen 
of the sentry's desire, and the king, whom she informed, had 
the kindness to go from one room to the other and walk 
before him. I then went back to the sentry. '^ Ah ! mon- 
sieur/' he said, ''how good the king isl how he loves his 
children 1 " He was so moved that he could hardly speak. 
^ No/' he continued, striking his chest, '' I cannot believe he 
has done us all that harm." I feared that his extreme agita- 
tion would compromise him, and I left him. 

Another sentry, posted at the end of the alley where the 
royal family took their walk, still very yoimg and with an 
interesting face, expressed by his looks the desire to give us 
some information. Madame Elisabeth, on the second turn 
of their walk, went near him to see if he would speak to her. 
Whether from fear or respect he did not dare to do so ; but 
tears fell from his eyes, and he made a sign to indicate that 
he had laid a paper near him in a rubbish heap. I began 
to look for it, under pretence of finding quoits for the 
dauphin. But the municipal officers stopped me, and for- 
bade me to go near the sentinels in future. I have never 
known the intentions of that young man. 

This hour for their walk brought another kind of spectacle 
to the royal family which often rent their hearts. A num- 
ber of faithful subjects daily profited by that brief hour 
to see their king and queen by placing themselves at the 
windows of houses which look into the garden of the Temple. 
It was impossible to be mistaken as to their sentiments and 
their prayers. Once I was sure I recognized the Marquise 
de TourzeL I judged especially by the extreme attention 
with which she watched the movements of the little prince 
when he left his parents' side. I said this to Madame £lisa- 
beth; who believed her a victim of September 2d. The tears 


came into her eyes on hearing the nam& ^ Oh 1" she said, 
^can she be living still ! " 

The next day I found means to get information. The 
Marquise de Tourzel was living on one of her estates. I 
also learned that the Princesse de Tarente and the Marquise 
de la Boche-Aymon, who were at the Tuileries on the 10th 
of August, had escaped the massacre. The safety of Uiese 
persons, whose devotion was manifested on so many occar 
sions, gave some moments of consolation to the royal family ; 
but they heard soon after the awful news that the prisoners 
of the upper court of Orleans had all been massacred at Ver- 
sailles on the 9th. 

September 29, at nine in the evening, a man named Lubin, 
a municipal, arrived, surrounded by gendarmes on horseback 
and a numerous populace, to make a proclamation in front of 
the Tower. The trumpets sounded, and great silence suc- 
ceeded. Lubin had the voice of Stentor. The royal family 
could hear distinctly the proclamation of the abolition of 
royalty, and the establishment of a republic. Hubert, so 
well-known under the name of Pfere Duchesne, and De&- 
toumelles, afterwards minister of public taxation, happened 
to be on guard that day over the royal family ; they were 
seated at the moment near the door, and they stared at the 
king, smiling treacherously. The king noticed them ; he had 
a book in his hand and continued to read ; no change ap- 
peared upon his face. The queen showed equal firmness; 
not a word, not a motion that could add to the enjoyment 
of those two men. The proclamation ended, the trumpets 
soimded again. I went to the window; instantly all eyes 
turned to me; they took me for Louis XYL; I was loaded 
with insults. The gendarmes made threatening motions 
towards me with their sabres, and I was obliged to retire in 
order to stop the tumult 


The same evening I informed the king that his son had 
need of curtains and covering for his bed, as the cold was 
beginning to be felt The king told me to write the request 
and he would sign it I used the same expressions I had 
hitherto employed: "The king requests for his son, etc." 
** You are very daring," said Destoumelles, " to use a title 
abolished by the will of the people, as you have just heard." 
I replied that I had heard a proclamation, but I did not 
know its object '' It is," he said, " the abolition of royalty, 
and you can tell monsieur (pointing to the king) to cease to 
take a title the people no longer recognize." "I cannot," 
I said to him, "change this note, because it is already 
signed; the king would ask me the reason, and it is not 
for me to tell it to him." " You can do as you choose," he re- 
plied, " but I shall not certify your request." The next day 
Madame Elisabeth ordered me to write in future for such 
purposes as follows : " It is necessary for the service of 
Louis XVI. — or Marie-Antoinette — or Louis-Charles — or 
Marie-Th^ifese — or Marie-£lisabeth." 

Up to that time I had been forced to repeat these requests 
often. The small amount of linen the king and queen had 
was lent to them by persons of the Court during the time 
they were at the Feuillants. They could get none from the 
chftteau of the Tuileries, where, on the 10th of August, every- 
thing had been pillaged. The royal family lacked clothing 
of every kind, and the princesses mended what they had 
daily. Often Madame Elisabeth was obliged to wait until 
the king went to bed, in order to dam his clothes. I ob- 
tained at last, after many requests, that a small amount 
of new linen should be made for them. Unfortunately, the 
work-people marked it with croivned letters, and the muni- 
cipals insisted that the princesses should pick out the 
crowns; they were forced to obey. 



Continaation of their Life and Treatment The King separated from his 
Family, and summoned for Trial before the Conyention. 

On the 26th of September, I learned from a municipal that 
it was proposed to separate the king from his family, that an 
apartment was being prepared for him in the great Tower, 
and that it was then nearly ready. It was not without pre- 
caution that I announced to the king this new tyranny ; I 
showed him how much it cost me to distress him. " You 
could not give me a greater proof of attachment/' said His 
Majesty. " I exact of your zeal that you will hide nothing 
from me ; I expect everything ; try to learn the day of this 
cruel separation and inform me of it." 

On the 29th of September, at ten o'clock in the morning, 
five or six mimicipals entered the queen's room where the 
royal family was assembled. One of them, named Char- 
bonnier, read to the king a decree of the councU of the 
Commune which ordered " the removal of paper, pens, ink, 
pencils, and written papers, whether on the persons of the 
prisoners or in their rooms ; also from the valet de chamhre, 
and all other persons on service in the Tower." Charbonnier 
added: "If you have need of anjrthing, Clery will come 
down and write your requests on a register which will be 
kept in the coimcil-chamber." 

The king and his family, without making the slightest 
observation, searched their persons and gave up their papers, 
pencils, pocket-cases, etc. The commissioners then searched 
the rooms, the closets, and carried off the articles designated 


in the decree. I learned then, from a member of the depu- 
tation, that the king was to be transferred that very evening 
to the great Tower. I found means to inform the king by 
means of Madame ilSlisabeth. 

True enough, after supper, as the king was leaving the 
queen's room to go up to his own, a municipal told him to 
wait, as the council had something to communicate to him. 
A quarter of an hour later, the six municipals who, in the 
morning, had carried away the papers, etc., entered, and read 
to the king a second decree of the Commime, which ordered 
his removal to the great Tower. Though already informed 
of that event, the king was greatly affected on being notified 
of it ; his distressed family tried to read in the eyes of the 
commissioners to what length their projects went The 
king, in bidding them adieu, left them in the utmost alarm 
and uncertainty, and this separation, forecasting as it did so 
many other misfortimes, was one of the most cruel moments 
Their Majesties had yet passed in the Temple. I followed 
the king to his new prison. 

The apartment of the king in the great Tower was not 
ready ; there was only one bed and no other furniture in it. 
The painters and paperers were still at work, which caused 
so intolerable a smell that I feared His Majesty would be 
made ill by it. They intended to give me a room very far 
from that of the king, but I insisted vehemently on being 
nearer to him. I passed the first night in a chair beside His 
Majesty; the next day the king, with great difficulty, ob- 
tained for me a room adjoining his own. 

After His Majesty had risen, I wished to go into the small 
tower to dress the yoimg prince. The municipals refused. 
One of them, named V^ron, said : " You are to have no com- 
munication in future with the other prisoners, nor your mas- 
ter either; he is never to see his children again." 

140 MADAME Elisabeth de France. [chap. n. 

At nine o'clock the king asked to be taken to his family. 
" We have no orders for that/' replied the commissioners. 
His Majesty made a few obserrations, to which they did 
not reply. 

Half an hour later, two municipals entered, followed by a 
serving-man who brought the king a piece of bread and a 
bottle of lemonade for his breakfast. The king expressed 
his desire to dine with his family ; they replied that they 
would inquire the orders of the Commune. ^ But/' said the 
king, ''my valet de charnbre can surely go down; he has 
the care of my son, and nothing prevents him from continu- 
ing that service." '' That does not depend on us," said the 
commissioners, and they retired. 

I was then in a coiner of the room, overcome with distress 
and filled with heart-rending fears for that august family. 
On one side, I saw the suffering of my master ; on the other, 
I thought of the young prince, abandoned perhaps to strange 
hands. The municipals had already talked of separating him 
from his parents, and what fresh suffering that would cause 
to the queen 1 

I was full of these distressing ideas when the king came 
to me holding in his hand the bread they had brought hiTn ; 
he offered me half, saying: ''They seem to have forgotten 
your breakfast; take this, the rest is enough for me." I 
refused, he insisted. I could not restrain my tears; the 
king saw them, and his own flowed. 

At ten o'clock other mimicipals brought the workmen to 
continue their work in the apartment. One of them said to 
the king that he had just been present at the breakfast of his 
family, and they were all in good health. " I thank you/' 
said the king, " and I beg you to give them news of me ; tell 
them that I am welL Can I not," he continued, "have a 
few books which I left in the queen's room ? You would do 


me a great pleasure if you would send them to me, for I have 
nothing to read here." His Majesty named the books he 
wanted. The mimicipal consented to the king's request; 
but, not knowing how to read, he proposed that I should 
go with him to get the books. I congratulated myself on 
the man's ignorance, and I blessed Providence for giving 
us that moment of consolation. The king charged me with 
certain orders, his eyes told me the rest. 

I found the queen in her room, with her children and 
Madame Elisabeth. They were weeping, and their grief 
increased on seeing me. They asked a thousand questions 
about the king, to which I could only answer with reserve. 
The queen, addressing the municipals who accompanied me, 
eagerly urged her request to be with the king at least a few 
moments a day, and during meals. No longer complaints 
and tears, it was cries and sobs of griel ^ Well, they shall 
dine together to-day at least," said a municipal officer, "but 
as our conduct is subordinate to the decrees of the Commune 
we must do to-morrow what they prescribe." His colleagues 

At the mere idea of being again with the king, a senti- 
ment that was almost joy came to soothe the afflicted family. 
The queen holding her children in her arms, and Madame 
Elisabeth, raising her eyes to heaven and thanking Grod 
for the unexpected mercy, presented a very touching sight. 
Some of the municipals could not restrain their tears (the 
only ones I ever saw them shed in that dreadful place). 
One of them, the shoemaker Simon, said aloud : " I believe 
those b ... of women will make me cry." Then turning to 
the queen he added : " When you murdered the people on the 
10th of August you did not cry." — " The people are greatly 
deceived about our sentiments," answered the queen. 

I then took the books the king asked for and carried them 

142 MADAME Elisabeth de France. [chjlp. n. 

to him; the municipals went with me to inform His Majesty 
that he might see his family. I said to these commissioners 
that I supposed I could without doubt continue to serve the 
young prince and the princesses ; they consented. I thus 
had an opportunity to inform the queen of what had taken 
place^ also of how much the king had suflered in being 
parted from her. They served the dinner in the king's 
room where his family joined him ; nothing more was said 
about the decree of the Commune, and the royal family con- 
tinued to meet at their meals, and also when walking in the 

After dinner they showed the queen the apartment that 
was being prepared for her in the great Tower, above that of 
the king. She begged the workmen to finish it quickly, but it 
was three weeks before it was ready. 

During that interval I continued my services towards 
Their Majesties as well as towards the yotmg prince and the 
princesses. Their occupations remained the same. The care 
the king gave to the education of his son was not inter- 
rupted ; but this abode of the royal family in two separate 
towers made the watchfulness of the municipals more diffi- 
cult and rendered them very uneasy. The number of com- 
missioners was increased, and their distrust left me but little 
means to gain information of what was passing outside. 
Here are the ways I made use of : — 

Under pretext of getting my linen and other necessaries 
brought to me, I obtained permission for my wife to come 
once a week to the Temple. She was always accompanied 
by a lady, a friend of hers, who passed for one of her rela- 
tives. No one proved more attachment to the royal family 
than this lady, by the steps she took and the risks she ran 
on various occasions. On their arrival, they were taken into 
the council chamber, but I could only speak to them in pres- 


ence of the municipals. We were closely watched, and the 
first visits brought no results; but I managed to make them 
understand that they must come at one o'clock in the after- 
noon, the hour of the king's walk, during which time most 
of the municipals followed the royal family ; only one was 
left in the council chamber, and if he was a kindly man he 
gave us some liberty, without, however, losing us from sight 

Getting thus a chance to speak without being overheard, I 
obtained from them news of the persons in whom the royal 
family took interest, and I heard of what was going on in 
the Convention. It was my wife who engaged the crier 
whom I have already mentioned as coming every day near 
the walls of the Temple and crying the items in the news- 
papers several times at intervals. 

To this information I added what I could pick up from 
some of the municipals, but especially from a faithful 
man named Turgy, serving in the king's kitchen, who, out 
of devotion to His Majesty, had contrived to get him- 
self employed in the Temple with two of his comrades, 
Marchand and Chretien. They brought to the Tower the 
meals of the royal family, prepared in- the kitchen of the 
palace of the Temple; they were also in charge of the busi- 
ness of provisioning, and Turgy, who was thus able to leave 
the precincts of the Temple two or three times a week, 
obtained information of what was happening. The difficulty 
was to convey that information to me. He was forbidden 
to speak to me except about the service of the table, and 
always in presence of the municipals. When he wanted to 
tell me something, he made a sign we had agreed upon, and 
I made different pretexts to approach him. Sometimes I 
asked him to do my hair; then Madame Elisabeth, who 
knew of my relations with Turgy, would speak to the munici- 
pals, and so give me time to exchange a few words unob- 


served ; at other times I would make occasions for him to 
enter my chamber^ and he seized the moment to put news- 
papers and other printed documents into my bed. 

When the king or queen desired some particular informa- 
tion from the outside, and the day of my wife's visit was far 
off, I employed Turgy. If it was not his day for going out 
I would pretend to be in need of something for the royal 
family. ** It must be for another day/' he would answer. 
** Very good," I then said, with an indifferent air, " the king 
can wait." By speaking thus I expected to induce the mu- 
nicipals to give him an order to go out. Often they did 
give it and he brought me the details the king wanted that 
night or the next morning. We had agreed together as 
to this system of communicating, but we had to be careful 
not to employ the same means twice before the same 

Other obstacles were in the way of my informing the 
king of what I had learned. I could only speak to His 
Majesty in the evening at the moment when they changed 
the guard and as he went to bed. Sometimes I could say a 
word to him in the mornings when his watchers were not yet 
in a state to appear. I affected to wait until they were, let- 
ting them see, however, that the king was waiting for me. 
If they let me enter, I immediately opened the curtains of 
the king's bed, and while I put on his shoes and stockings I 
was able to speak to him without being heard. More often, 
however, my hopes miscarried, and the municipals made me 
wait for the end of their own toilet before they would let me 
attend to that of his Majesty. Several among them treated 
me roughly ; some ordered me in the morning to take away 
their flock-beds and obliged me to replace them in the even- 
ing ; others constantly made insulting remarks to me ; but 
such conduct gave me additional means of being useful to 

1792] THE CAPnvrrr of louis xvl 145 

Their Majesties ; by showing only gentleness and compliance 
to the commissioners, I ended by getting their good-will 
almost in spite of themselves ; I inspired them with confi- 
dence without their being aware of it ; and I thus succeeded 
in learning from themselves what I wanted to know. 

Such was the plan that I was following with great care 
ever since my entrance to the Temple, when a singular and 
unexpected event made me fear I should be separated for- 
ever from the royal family. 

One evening, towards six o'clock, — it was on the 6th of 
October, — after having accompanied the queen to her apart- 
ment, I was going back to the king with the two municipal 
officers, when a sentinel placed at the door of the large guard- 
room stopping me by the arm and calling me by name, asked 
how I was and said, with an air of mystery, that he had some- 
thing he wished to speak about. '^ Monsieur," I answered, 
'' speak out loud ; I am not permitted to whisper with any 
one.** '^ I am told," said the man, '^ that the king has been 
put in a dungeon for the last few days, and that you are 
with him." " Tou see it is not so," I replied, leaving him. 
One of the municipals was walking before me, the other 
followed me; the first stopped and listened to what was 

The next morning two commissioners waited for me at 
the door of the queen's room. They took me to the council- 
chamber, and the municipals who were there assembled, 
questioned me. I reported the conversation with the senti- 
nel just as it had taken place ; the municipal who had lis- 
tened to it confirmed my account; the other maintained 
that the sentinel had given me a paper, that it was a letter 
to the king and he had heard it rustle. I denied the fact, 
and invited the mimicipals to search me and make other 
inquiries. They drew up a proch^erbal of my examination, 


146 MAnAUia jfcuSABETH DE FBANCE. [chap, il 

and I was confironted with the sentinely who was senteoiced 
to twenty-four houis imprisonment. 

I thought the affair ended when, on the 26th of October, 
while the royal family were dining, a municipal entered, fol- 
lowed by siz gendarmes, sabre in hand, a clerk, and a sheriff, 
boUi in unifomL I was in terror, thinking they had come to 
seize the king. The royal family rose ; the king asked what 
was wanted of him ; but the municipal, without replying to 
him, called me into the next room ; the gendarmes followed, 
and the clerk having read to me a warrant of arrest they 
seized me to take me before the Tribunal I asked permis- 
sion to inform the king, and was told that from that moment 
I should not be allowed to speak to him. ^ Take nothing 
but a shirt," added the municipal, '' it will not be long." 

I beUeved I understood him and took nothing but my hat 
I passed beside the king and his family who were standing 
and seemed in consternation at the manner in which I was 
carried off. The populace collected round the Temple as- 
sailed me with insults and demanded my head. An officer 
of the National Guard said it was necessary to preserve my 
life until I had revealed secrets of which I was the sole de- 
positary. The same vociferations continued the whole way. 

As soon as I reached the Palais-de-Justice I was put in 
solitary confinement. There I remained siz hours, vainly 
endeavouring to imagine what could be the motives for my 
arrest. I could only remember that on the morning of 
the 10th of August, during the attack on the chftteau of the 
Tuileries, a few persons who were caught there and were try- 
ing to get away, asked me to hide in a bureau that belonged 
to me several precious articles, and even papers by which 
they might be recognized. I thought that perhaps those 
papers had been seized and miight be my ruin. 

At eight o'clock I was taken before judges, who were un- 


known to ma This was a revolutionary tribunal, established 
August 10, to make a selection among those who had escaped 
the fury of the people on that occassion and put them to 
death. What was my astonishment when I saw on the 
prisoner's bench the same young man who was suspected of 
giving me a letter three weeks earlier, and when I recog- 
nized in my accuser the municipal officer who had de- 
nounced me to the council of the Temple. They questioned 
me, and witnesses were heard. The municipal renewed his 
accusation ; I retorted that he was not worthy to be a mag- 
istrate of the people, because, if he had heard the rustle of a 
paper and saw the man give me a letter he ought to have had 
me searched at once, instead of waiting eighteen hours to de- 
nounce me to the council of the Temple. After the debate, 
the jury voted, and on their declaration I was acquitted. 
The president ordered four of the municipals present to take 
me back to the Temple; it was then midnight. I arrived at 
the moment when the king was going to bed, and I was 
allowed to inform him of my return. The royal family had 
taken the keenest interest in my fate, and thought I was 
already condemned. 

It was at this time that the queen came to live in the 
apartment prepared for her in the great Tower ; but that day 
so earnestly desired, and which seemed to promise Their 
Majesties some consolation, was marked, on the part of the 
municipal officers, with a fresh proof of animosity against the 
queen. Since her arrival at the Temple they saw her devot- 
ing her existence to the care of her son and finding some 
relief to her troubles in his affection and his caresses ; they 
now separated the two without warning her; her distress 
was extreme. The young prince being placed with his father, 
I had sole charge of his service. With what tenderness the 
queen begged me to watch incessantly over his life. 

148 MADAMK Elisabeth de fbance. [chat. n. 

The events of which I shall henceforth haye to speak hay- 
ing happened in a different locality from that I have already 
described, I think I onght to make known the new habitation 
of Their Majesties. 

The great Tower, about one hundred and fifty feet high, had 
four storeys, all vaulted and supported up the middle from 
base to roof by ahuge shaft [what was called the little tower 
flanked it, but without conmranication, on one side]. The 
interior is about thirty feet square. 

The second and third floors allotted to the king and queen, 
being, like the other floors, of one room each, were divided 
by board partitions into four rooms. The ground-floor was 
used by the municipals, the floor above was the guardroom, 
the next was that of the king. 

The first room of his floor (divided as above stated) was 
an antechamber from which three doors led into the other 
three rooms. Opposite to the entrance was the king's bedroom, 
in which a bed was now placed for the dauphin ; my room 
was on the left, so was the dining-room, which was separated 
from the antechamber by a glass partition. In the king's room 
was a chimney; a great stove in the antechamber heated 
the other rooms. Each of these rooms was lighted by a 
window ; but thick iron bars and shutters on the outside pre- 
vented the air from circulating freely. The embrasures of 
these windows were nine feet deep. 

The floors of the great tower communicated by a staircase 
placed in one of the taureUes at the comer of it. This 
staircase went up to the battlements, and wickets were placed 
upon it at intervals, to the number of seven. From this 
staircase each floor was entered through two doors, one of 
oak, very thick and studded with nails, the other of iron. 
The other tourdle, opening into the king's chamber, was 
made into a reading-room ; on the floor above, it was turned 


into a privy^ and above that the firewood was stored in it 
and during the day the flock beds of the municipals who 
guarded the king at night were placed there. 

The four rooms on the king's floor had canvas ceilings ; 
the partitions were covered with paper; that of the ante- 
chamber represented the interior of a prison^ and on one of 
the panels hung, in veiy large type, " The Declaration of the 
Sights of Man " framed in a border of the three colours. A 
washstand, a small bureau, four covered chairs, one arm-chair, 
four straw chairs, a mirror on the fireplace, and a bed of green 
damask composed the furniture ; these articles, together with 
those used in the other chambers were taken from the palace 
of the Templa The king's bed was the one used by the 
captain of the guards of the Comte d ' Artois. 

The Due d'Angoul^me, in his capacity of grand-prior of 
France, was proprietor of the palace of the Temple. The 
Comte d 'Artois had furnished it and made it his residence 
whenever he came to Paris. The Tower, separated from the 
palace by about two hundred feet and standing in the middle 
of the garden, was the storehouse of the archives of the 
Knights of Malta. 

The queen lodged on the third floor, above the king, the 
distribution of the rooms being nearly the same as that of 
the king's apartment The bedroom of the queen and Madame 
Boyale was over that of the king and dauphin ; Madame Elisa- 
beth occupied the room above mine ; the municipal sat in the 
antechamber all day and slept there. Tison and his wife lodged 
in the room above the dining-room of the king's apartment 

The upper (fourth) floor was unoccupied ; a gallery ran 
round the inside of the battlements and was sometimes used 
as a promenade ; but blinds had been placed between the bat- 
tlements to prevent the royal &mily from seeing and being 

160 MADAME Elisabeth de frakce. [chap. n. 

After the reunion of Their Majesties in the great Tower 
there was little change in the hours of meals^ readings, walks, 
or in the time given by the king and queen to the education 
of their children. After the king rose, he read the ser- 
vice of the £nights of the Saint-Esprit, and as they had 
refused to allow mass to be said in the Temple, even on feast- 
days, he ordered me to buy for him the breviary that was 
used by the diocese of Paris. Louis XVL was truly religious, 
but his pure and enlightened religion never caused him to 
n^lect his other duties. Books of travel, the works of Mon- 
tesquieu, those of the Comte de Buffon, ^ The Spectacle of 
Nature " by Pluche, Hume's History of England, the Imitation 
of Jesus Christ in Latin, Tasso in Italian, the drama of our 
different schools, were his habitual reading from the time 
he entered the Temple. He always gave four hours a day to 
Latin authors. 

Madame Elisabeth and the queen desiring, to have the 
same books of devotion as those of the king. His Majesty 
ordered me to obtain permission to buy them. How often 
have I seen Madame Elisabeth on her knees at her bedside 
praying fervently I 

At nine o'clock they came to fetch the king and his son to 
breakfast in the queen's room ; I accompanied them. I then 
did the hair of the three princesses, and, by order of the 
queen, I showed Madame Boyale how to dress hair. Dur- 
ing this time the king played chess or dominoes with the 
queen or with Madame Elisabeth. 

After dinner the young prince and his sister played in the 
antechamber at battledore and shuttlecock, at Siam, or 
other games. Madame fiUsabeth was always present, sitting 
near a table, with a book in her hand. I remained in the 
room, sometimes reading ; and I then sat downt to obey the 
orders of the princess. This dispersal of the royal &mily 


often made the mnnicipals veiy uneasy ; unwilling to leave 
the king and queen alone, they were still more unwilling to 
separate from one another, so much did each distrust his 
fellow. This was the moment that Madame Elisabeth 
snatched to ask me questions or give me orders. I listened 
to her and answered without turning my eyes from the book 
which I held in my hand, so as not to be detected by the muni- 
cipals. The dauphin and Madame Boyale, in coUusion with 
their aimt, facilitated these conversations by their noisy 
games, and often warned her by certain signs of the entrance 
of the municipals into the room. I was distrustful above all 
of Tison, suspected by the Commissioners themselves, whom 
he had more than once denoimced ; it was in vain that the 
king and queen treated him kindly ; nothing could conquer 
his natural malignity. 

In the evening, at bed-time, the municipals placed their 
beds in the antechamber so as to barricade the room in which 
His Majesty slept They then locked the door leading &om 
my room into that of the king and took away the key. I was 
obliged therefore to pass through the antechamber whenever 
His Majesty called me during the night, bear the ill-humour 
of the commissioners, and wait till one of them chose to get 
up and let me pass. 

On the 7th of October, at six in the evening, I was made 
to go down to the council-chamber, where I found some 
twenty of the municipals assembled, presided over by Manuel, 
who, from being a prosecutor for the Commune of Paris had 
risen to be a member of the National Convention. His pres- 
ence surprised me and made me anxious. They ordered me 
to take from the king, that very evening, the orders with 
which he was still decorated, such as those of Saint-Louis and 
the Golden Fleece ; His Majesty no longer wore that of the 
Holy-Spirit, which had been suppressed by the first Assembly. 

152 MADAME Elisabeth de fbance. [chjup. n. 

I represented that I could not obey ; that it was not my 
place to make known to the king the decrees of the council 
I made this answer in order to gain time to warn His Ma- 
jesty> and I then saw by the embarrassment of the municipals 
that they were acting this time, at least, without being autho- 
rized by any decree, either of the Commime or the Conven- 
tion. The commissioners refused at first to go up to the king ; 
but Manuel induced them to do so by offering to accompany 
them. The king was seated, reading; Manuel addressed 
him, and the conversation that ensued was as remarkable for 
the indecent familiarity of Manuel as for the calmness and 
moderation of the king. 

"How are you?" asked Manuel; "have you all that is 
necessary ? " — " I am content with what I have," replied His 
Majesty. — "You are informed no doubt of the victories of 
our armies, of the taking of Spire, and of Nice, and the con- 
quest of Savoie ? " — "I heard them mentioned a few days 
ago by one of those messieurs, who was reading an evening 
journal " — " What ! do not you see the newspapers which are 
now so interesting ? " — "I receive none." — " Messieurs" said 
Manuel, addressing the municipals " give all the newspapers 
to monsieur (pointing to the king) ; it is well that he should 
be informed of our successes." Then, addressing His Ma- 
jesty again, " Democratic principles are propagating them- 
selves ; you know, of course, that the people have abolished 
royalty and adopted a republican government ? " — "I have 
heard it said, and I hope that Frenchmen will find the hap- 
piness that I always wished to give them." — " Do you also 
know that the National Assembly has suppressed all orders 
of knighthood? They ought to have told you to take off 
those decorations. Belegated to the class, of other citizens 
you must be treated in the same manner as they. As for 
the rest, ask for what is necessary and they will hasten to 


procure it." — "I thank you/' said the king, " I have need of 
nothing ; " and he resumed his reading. Manuel had hoped 
to discover regrets or provoke impatience ; he found a great 
resignation and an unalterable serenity. 

The deputation retired ; one of the municipals told me to 
follow it to the council-room, where I was again ordered to 
remove from the king his decorations. Manuel added: 
" You will do well to send to the Convention the crosses and 
ribbons. I ought to warn you," he continued, " that the im- 
prisonment of Louis XVI., may last long, and if your inten- 
tion is not to remain here, you had better say so now. It is 
intended, in order to make the surveillance easier, to lessen 
the number of persons employed in the Tower. If you re- 
main with the ddevant king you will be absolutely alone, 
and your work wiU become much heavier. Wood and water 
for one week wiU be brought to you ; but you wiU have to 
clean the apartment and do all the other work." I replied 
that being determined not to leave the king I would submit 
to everything. They then took me back to the apartment 
of His Majesty, who said to me: **Tou heard what was 
said ; you will take my decorations oflF my coats this evening." 

The next day, when dressing the king, I told him I had 
locked up the crosses and the cordons, though Manuel had 
told me it was proper to send them to the Convention. 
"Tou did right," said His Majesty. 

The tale has been spread that Manuel came to the Temple 
in the month of September to request His Majesty to write 
to the King of Prussia at the time of his entrance into 
Champagne. I can assure every one that Manuel appeared 
in the Temple only twice during the time that I was there, 
on the 3d of September and the 7th of October; that each 
time he was accompanied by a large number of municipals, 
and that he never spoke to the king in private. 

154 MADAME ^ISABETH DE FRANCE. [cuap. ii. 

On the 9th of October, thej brought to the king the 
jomnal of the debates in the Convention; but a few days 
later, a municipal, named Michel, a perfumer, obtained an 
order which again forbade the entrance of all public prints 
to the Tower; he called me into the coimcilK^hamber and 
asked me by whose order journals were sent to my address. 
It was true that, without being myself informed how or 
why, four newspapers were daily brought to the Tower, 
bearing this printed address : '' To the valet de chambre of 
Louis XVI., in the Tower of the Temple." I have always 
been ignorant, and stUl am, of the name of the person who 
paid the subscription. Michel wanted to force me to point 
it out to him, and he made me write to editors and publishers 
and get an explanation from them; but their answers, if 
they made any, were not communicated to me. 

This rule of not permitting newspapers to enter the Tower 
had exceptions, however, when they gave an opportunity 
for fresh outrage. If they contained insulting remarks 
about the king or queen, atrocious threats, infamous cal- 
umnies, certain of the municipals had the deliberate wick- 
edness to leave them on the mantel or the washstand in the 
king's room, in order that they might fall into his hands. 

Once he read in one of those sheets the speech of an 
artiUery-man who demanded '^ the head of the tyrant, Louis 
XYI., that he might load his cannon with it and send it to 
the enemy." Another paper, speaking of Madame j^abeth 
and seeking to destroy the admiration which her devotion 
to the king and queen inspired in the public mind, tried 
to destroy her virtue by the most absurd calumnies. A 
third said they ought to strangle the two little wolflings in 
the Tower, meaning thereby the dauphin and Madame 

The king was not affected by such articles, except on 


account of the people. '' The French/' he said, " are most 
unfortonate in letting themselves be thus deceived." I took 
care to abstract those journals if I chanced to be the first 
to see them ; but they were often laid there when my duties 
took me out of his room> and there were very few of these 
articles, written for the purpose of outraging the royal 
fomily, either to provoke to regicide or to prepare the people 
to let it be committed, which were not read by the king. 
Those who know the insolent writings published in those 
days can alone form an idea of this intolerable form of 

The influence of those sanguinaiy writings could be seen 
in the conduct of most of the municipal officers, who, until 
then, had not shown themselves so harsh or so malignant. 

One day, after dinner, I wrote a memorial of expenditures 
in the council-chamber and locked it up in a desk of which 
they had given ihe the key. I had hardly left the room 
before Marino, a municipal officer, said to his colleagues 
(though he was not on duty) that the desk must be opened 
and examined to prove whether or not I was in correspond- 
ence with the enemies of the people. '* I know him well," 
he added, '* and I know that he receives letters for the 
king." Then accusing his colleagues of connivance, he 
loaded them with insults, threatened to denounce them as 
accomplices, and went off to execute that purpose. The 
others immediately drew up a procis-verbal of all the papers 
contained in my desk and sent it to the Commune before 
whom Marino had already made his denunciation. 

This same man declared, another day, that a back-gam- 
mon-board, which I had had mended with the consent of 
his colleagues, contained a correspondence; he took it en- 
tirely apart and finding nothing he had it glued together 
again in his presence. 

156 MADAME Elisabeth de francb. [chap. n. 

One Thursdaji my wife and her friend having come to 
the Temple as usual, I talked with them in the council- 
chamber; the royal family, who were walking in the garden, 
saw us, and the queen and Madame i^lisabeth gave us a 
little nod. That motion, one of simple interest, was noticed 
by Marino ; nothing more was needed to make him arrest 
my wife and her friend the moment they left the council- 
chamber. They were questioned separately; they asked 
my wife who the lady was who accompanied her. "My 
sister," she replied. The other, being asked the same ques- 
tion, said she was her cousin. This contradiction served as 
the matter of a long proch-^oerhal and the gravest sus- 
picions, — Marino declaring that the lady was a page of 
the queen disguised. At last, after three hours of the most 
painful and insulting examination, they were set at liberty. 

They were allowed to return to the Temple, but we re- 
doubled our prudence and precautions. I often managed, in 
our short interviews, to give them notes which Madame 
Elisabeth had contrived to secrete from the searches of the 
municipals; these notes usually related to information de- 
sired by Their Majesties. Luckily, I had not given any on 
that occasion; had one of those notes been found upon 
them we should all three have run the greatest danger. 

Other municipals made themselves remarkable by ridicu- 
lous actions. One broke up all the macaroons to see if they 
contained writings; another, for the same purpose, ordered 
the peaches cut in two before him, and their stones cracked. 
A third forced me one day to drink some essence of soap 
with which the king shaved himself, affecting to fear there 
was poison in it. After each meal Madame Elisabeth used 
to give me a little knife with a gold blade to dean ; often 
the commissioners would snatch it from my hands to see if 
a note had been slipped into the sheatL 


Madame Elisabeth ordered me one day to send back to 
the Duchesse de S^rent a book of devotions ; the municipals 
cut off the margins ol every page, fearing she had written 
something on them with invisible it^V 

One of them forbade me one day to go up into the queen's 
room to do her hair. Her Majesty was forced to come down 
into the king's room, and bring with her all that was required 
for her toilet. 

Another wanted to follow her when, according to her cus- 
tom, she went into Madame tllisabeth's room to change her 
morning dress. I represented to him the indecency of that 
proceeding. He insisted ; Her Majesty then left the room 
and renounced dressing hersell 

When I received the linen from the wash, the municipals 
made me unfold every piece and examine it in broad day- 
light. The washerwoman's book and all other papers were 
held to the fire to see if there was secret writing on them. 
The linen the king and the princesses took off was subjected 
to the same examination. 

Some municipals, however, did not take part in the harsh- 
ness of their colleagues ; but most of these, becoming sus- 
pected by the Committee of Public Safety, died victims of 
their humanity ; those who still live have languished long 
in prison. 

A young man named Toulan, whom I thought, from his 
talk, to be one of the worst enemies of the royal family, 
came one day close to me and said, with mystery, ^* I cannot 
speak to the queen to-day on account of my comrades ; tell 
her that the commission she gave me is done, and that in a 
few days I shall be on duty, and then I will bring her the 
answer." Astonished to hear him speak thus, and fearing 
that he was laying a trap, I replied, ** Monsieur, you are mis- 
taken in addressing yourself to me for such commissions." 

158 MADAME Elisabeth de France. [chat. h. 

^ "So, I am not mistaken," he replied, grasping my hand as 
he left ma I related the conversation to the queen. ** Ton 
can trust Toulan," she said. This jomig man was afterwards 
implicated in the queen's trial, with nine other municipal 
officers accused of wishing to favour the escape of the queen 
from the Temple. Toulan perished in the last executions. 

Their Majesties, shut up in the Tower for three months, 
had so far seen none but the municipal officers, when, on the 
1st of November, a deputation from the National Conven- 
tion was announced to them. It was composed of Drouet, 
post-master at Yarennes, Chabot, an ex-capuchin, Dubois- 
Crano^, Duprat, and two others whose names I f oiget. This 
deputation asked the king how he was treated and whether 
thej gave him all necessary things. ** I complain of noth- 
ing," answered His Majesty. ^'I merely request that the 
commissioners will remit to my valet de chambre, or deposit 
with the council, the sum of two thousand francs for small 
current expenses ; also, that we may receive linen and other 
clothing of which we are greatly in need." The deputies 
promised aU this, but nothing was sent 

Some days later the king had quite a considerable swelling 
of his face ; I asked urgently that his dentist, M. Dubois, 
might be sent for. They deliberated three days, and then 
refused the request Fever set in, and then, at last, they 
permitted His Majesty to consult his head physician, M. le 
Monnier. It would be difficult to picture the distress of that 
respectable old man when he saw his master. 

The queen and her children almost never left the king 
during the day ; they nursed him with me, and often helped 
me in making his bed. I passed the nights alone beside 
him. M. le Monnier came twice a day, accompanied by a 
laige number of municipals. His person was searched, and 
he was not allowed to speak except in a loud voice. One day 


when the king had taken medicine, M. le Monnier asked to 
be allowed to remain a few hours. As he remained stand- 
ing, — the municipals being seated with their hats on their 
heads, — the king asked him to take a seat ; he refused, out 
of respect, and the commissioners murmured loudly. 

The king's illness lasted ten days. A few days later the 
young prince, who slept in His Majesty's room, the munici- 
pals refusing to transfer him to that of the queen, had fever. 
The queen felt all the more anxiety because she could not 
obtain permission, though she urged it eagerly, to stay during 
the night with her son. She gave him the most tender care 
during the hours she was allowed to be with him. The 
same illness was communicated to the queen, to Madame 
Boyale, and to Madame iQlisabeth. M. le Monnier obtained 
permission to continue his visits. 

I fell iU in my turn. The room I occupied was damp and 
without a chimney ; the shutter of the window intercepted 
what little air there was^ I was attacked by rheumatic 
fever with severe pains in the side which forced me to keep 
my bed The first day I rose to dress the king, but His 
Majesty, seeing my state, refused my care, ordered me to go 
to bed, and himself dressed his son. 

During that first day the dauphin hardly left me; that 
august child gave me drink ; in the evening, the king took 
advantage of a moment when he seemed to be less watched, 
to enter my room ; he gave me a glass of some drink, and 
said, with a kindness that made me shed tears : ^ I should 
like to take care of you myself, but you know how we are 
watched ; take courage ; to-morrow you shall see my doctor." 
At supper-time, the royal family came into my room and 
Madame Elisabeth gave me, without the municipals observ- 
ing it, a bottle containing syrup of squills; the princess, 
although she had a heavy cold, deprived herself of that 

160 MADAMS tuSABETH DE FRANCE. [chap. n. 

remedy for me. I wanted to refuse it, but she insisted. 
After supper, the queen undressed the dauphin and put him 
to bed ; and Madame iQlisabeth rolled the king^s hair. 

The ne2:t morning M. le Monnier ordered me to be bled ; 
but the consent of the Commune had to be obtained to the 
entrance of a surgeon. Thej talked of transferring me to 
the palace of the Temple. Fearing that I should never get 
back into the Tower if I once went out of it, I pretended to 
feel much better. That evening new municipals arrived and 
there was no further question of transferring me. 

Turgy asked to pass the night with me. The request was 
granted, also to his two comrades who took turns in sitting 
up with me. I was six days in bed, and each day the royal 
family came to see me; Madame Elisabeth often brought 
me things she used for hersell So much kindness restored 
a portion of my strength, for instead of the feeling of my 
sufferings, I had that of gratitude and admiration. Who 
would not have been touched to see that august family sus- 
pend, as it were, the thought of its great misfortunes, to 
busy itself with those of its servant? 

I ought not to forget here a trait of the dauphin which 
proves the goodness of his heart and how much he profited 
by the examples of virtue he had always before his eyes. 

One night, after putting him to bed, I retired to make 
way for the queen a\id the princesses, who always came to 
kiss him for good-night in his bed. Madame Elisabeth, with 
whom the close watchfulness of the municipals had that day 
prevented me from speaking, took advantage of that moment 
to give him a little box of ipecacuanha tablets, telling him to 
give them to me when I returned. The princesses went up 
to their rooms, the king passed into his cabinet, and I went 
to supper. I returned about eleven o'clock to prepare the 
king's bed ; I was alone ; the little prince called me in a low 


voice. Much surprised at finding him awake and fearing he 
was iU^ I went to him. ^ My aunt gave me this little box for 
you/' he said, " and 1 would not go to sleep without giving it 
to you; it was high time you came, for my eyes have shut 
up several times." Mine filled with tears ; he saw them 
and kissed me, and in two minutes more he was sound 

To this sensibility the young prince added many graces 
and the lovability of his age. Often by his nalvet^, the 
gaiety of his nature, and his little rogueries he made his 
parents forget for a moment their cruel situation. But he 
felt it himself; although so young, he knew he was in a 
prison and watched by enemies. His behaviour and his 
talk acquired that reserve which iostiact, in presence of a 
danger inspires perhaps at any age. Never did I hear him 
mention the Tuileries, or Versailles, or any subject that 
might remind the queen or the king of painful memories. 
When he saw some municipal kinder than his colleagues on 
guard, he would run to his mother and say with an expres- 
sion of great satisfaction: ^ Mamma, it is Monsieur Such-a- 
one to-day." 

Once he fixed his eyes so long on a municipal, seeming to 
recognize him, that the man asked where he had seen him. 
The little prince refused for sometime to answer; at last, 
leaning towards the queen, he said to her in a whisper, ^ It 
was when we went to Varennes." 

Here is still another proof of his sensitive feelings. A 

mason was employed in making holes in the waU of the 

antechamber so as to put enormous bolts to the door. While 

the man ate his breakfast the little prince amused himself 

with his tools ; the king took the hammer and chisel from 

his son's hands and showed him how to use them. The 

mason, touched at seeing the king work, said to His Majesty : 


162 MADAME Elisabeth de fbance. [ohap. u. 

^ When yon get out of here yoa can say that you worked 
yourself at your prison." — "Ah 1 ** said the king, ** when and 
how shall I get out ? " The little prince burst into tears ; 
the king let fall the hammer and chisel and went back to his 
room, where he walked up and down with hasty strides. 

December 2d, the municipality of the 10th of August 
was replaced by another, under the title of Provisional 
Municipality. Many of the former members were re-elected. 
I thought, at first, that the new set were better than the 
old, and I hoped for some favourable changes in the system 
of the prison. I was mistaken. Many of the new commis- 
sioners gave me reason to regret their predecessors; the 
latter were coarser, it is true, but it was easy to take ad- 
vantage of their natural indiscretion to find out all they 
knew. I had to study the commissioners of the new muni- 
cipality to judge of their conduct and their character ; their 
malignity was much more premeditated. 

Until this time only one municipal was constantly on 
guard over the king, and one over the queen. The new 
municipality ordered two, and henceforth it was much more 
difficult for me to speak with the king and the princesses. 
On the other hand, the council, which until then had been 
held in one of the halls of the Temple palace, was trans- 
ferred to a room on the ground-floor of the Tower. The 
new municipals wished to surpass the former ones in zeal, 
and this zeal was emulation of tyranny. 

December 7, a mimicipal, at the head of a deputation 
from the Commune, came to read to the king a decree which 
ordered him to take from the prisoners " knives, razors, scis- 
sors, penknives, and all other sharp instruments of which 
prisoners presumed criminal are deprived; and to make a 
most minute search of their persons and of their apartments.** 

During the reading, the municipal's voice shook, and it 


was easy to see the violence he was putting upon himself ; 
and he afterwards proved by his conduct that he had 
allowed himself to be sent to the Temple solely to endeav- 
our to be useful to the royal family. The king took from 
his pockets a knife and a little case of red morocco, from 
which he drew scissors and a penknife. The municipals 
made the most careful search through the apartments, 
taking razors, a ruler for rolling hair, a toilet-knife, little 
iQstraments for cleaning the teeth, and other articles in gold 
and silver. The same search was made in my room, and I 
was ordered to give up whatever was on my person. 

The municipals then went up to the queen : they read the 
same decree to the three princesses and took away from them 
even the little articles that were necessary for their work. 

An hour later, I was made to go down into the council- 
chamber, and they asked me if I knew what articles re^ 
mained in the red morocco case the king had put back into 
his pocket. ''I order you,'' said a municipal named Ser^ 
maize, ^'to take that case away from him to-night." '^It is 
not my place," I said, ** to execute the decrees of the Con- 
vention, nor to search the king's pockets." ** d^ry is right," 
said another municipal; ^^it was your place," addressing 
Sermaize, ^*to make that search." 

They then drew up a proc^-verhal of all the articles 
taken from the royal family, and sorted them into packets, 
which they sealed up; they next ordered me to sign my 
name at the bottom of a decree which enjoined me to re- 
port to the coundl if I discovered on the king or the prin- 
cesses, or in their apartments, any sharp instruments ; these 
different documents were sent to the Commune. 

On looking through the registers of the Temple it will be 
seen that I was often forced to sign decrees of which I was 
very far from approving either the object or the wording. I 

164 MADAME £:LISABETH DE FRANCE. [chap. ii. 

never signed anything, never said anything, never did any- 
thing, except by the special order of the king or of the 
queen. A refusal on my part would have caused my sep- 
aration from Their Majesties, to whom I had consecrated 
my existence; my signature at the foot of certain decrees 
had no other meaning than to admit that those documents 
had been read to me. 

This Sermaize of whom I have just spoken took me back 
to the apartment of His Majesty. The king was sitting 
near the fireplace, tongs in hand. Sermaize asked him, in 
the name of the council, to show what remained in the red 
morocco case. The king drew it from his pocket ; in it was 
a screw-driver, a corkscrew, and a flint Sermaize took pos- 
session of them. ^ Are not these tongs which I have in my 
hand sharp instruments?" said the king, turning his back 
upon him. 

At dinner-time an argument arose among the conmiission- 
ers. Some were opposed to the use by the royal family of 
knives and forks; others consented to allow forks; at last 
it was decided to make no change; but to take away the 
knives and forks at the conclusion of each meaL 

This deprivation of their little articles was all the more 
tiying to the queen and the princesses because it obliged 
them to give up various kinds of work which until then had 
served to occupy and amuse those long days in prison. One 
day, when Madame Elisabeth was mending the king's 
clothes, she broke off the thread with her teeth, having no 
scissors. ** What a contrast ! " said the king, looking at her 
fixedly and tenderly ; " you lacked for nothing in your pretty 
house at MontreuiL'' ''Ah! brother," she replied, "can I 
have regrets when I share your sorrow?^ 

^ Madame Elisabeth was always notable and clever at work of all kinds. 
One of her ladies, watching her one day, said what a pitj it was that such 


Day after day brought new decrees each of which was a 
fresh tyranny. The roughness and harshness of the muni- 
cipals towards me was greater than ever. The three men 
from the kitchen were forbidden to speak to me ; this, and 
other things made me fear some fresh catastrophe. The 
queen and Madame Elisabeth, struck by the same presenti- 
ment^ asked me constantly for news^ which I could not give 

At last^ on Thursday, my wife and her friend arrived. I 
was taken down to the council-chamber. She talked, as 
usual, in a loud voice to disarm the suspicions of our new 
jailers ; and while she was giving me details of our domestic 
affairs her friend said : ^ Next Tuesday, they take the king 
to the Convention ; his trial will begin ; he may get coun- 
sel; all this is certain." 

I did not know how to announce this dreadful news to 
the king ; I wanted to inform the queen or Madame Elisa- 
beth of it first ; but I was in great alarm ; time was passing, 
and the king had forbidden me to conceal anything from 
him. That night, as I undressed him, I told him what I 
had heard ; I made him foresee that they would certainly 
during his trial separate him from his family; and I added 
that there were but four days in which to concert with the 
queen some method of communication between them. I 
assured him that I was determined to undertake everything 
that would facilitate that object. The entrance of a munici- 
pal did not allow me to say more and prevented His Majesty 
from replying to me. 

The next day, when he rose, I could not find a chance 
to speak to him. He went up with his son to breakfast 

a faculty was wasted on one who did not need it. "Ah!'' exclaimed 
Madame Elisabeth, '* it is good to do eyerjthing as weU as one can ; and, 
besides, who knows 1 I ma/ haye to get my living in this way." — Tb. 

166 MADAME Elisabeth de France. [chap. n. 

with the princesses and I followed him. After breakfast 
he talked some time with the queen and I saw by her look 
of sorrow that he was teUing her what I had said to him. 
I found, in the course of the day, an opportunity to talk 
with Madame l^Hisabeth; I explained to her how mudi it 
had cost me to inform the king of his coming trial and 
thus increase his troubles. She reassured me, saying that 
the king was much touched by that mark of my attach- 
ment ^ What troubles him most/' she added, ^ is the fear of 
being separated from us ; try to get more information." 

That evening the king told me how glad he was to have 
heard in advance that he was to appear before the Conven- 
tion. ^ Continue," he said, " to try to discover what they 
mean to do with me ; do not fear to distress me. I have 
agreed with my famUy not to seem informed, in order not 
to compromise you." 

The nearer the day of the trial approached, the more dis- 
trust was shown to me; the mimicipals would not reply to 
any of my questions. I had already employed, in vain, 
various pretexts to go down into the council-chamber, where 
I might have picked up some new details to communicate 
to the king, when the commission appointed to audit the 
expenses of the royal family came to the Temple. They 
were obliged then to let me go down to give information, 
and I heard from a well-intentioned municipal that the 
separation of the king from his family, though decreed by 
the Commune, was not yet decided in the National As- 
sembly. That same day Turgy brought me a newspaper in 
which I found the decree, which ordered that the king be 
brought before the bar of the Convention ; he also gave me 
a memorial on the king's trial, published by M. Necker. 
I had no other means of conveying the paper and memorial 
to the Mng than to place them under one of the articles of 


furniture in the privy, telling the king and the princesses 
that they were there. 

December 11, 1792, at five o'clock in the morning, we 
heard the girUrale beaten throughout Paris, and cavalry 
and cannon were brought into the garden of the Templa 
This uproar would have cruelly alarmed the royal family 
if they had not already known its causa Nevertheless, they 
feigned to be ignorant of it, and asked an explanation of the 
commissioners on duty, who refused to reply. 

At nine o'clock the king and the dauphin went up to 
breakfast in the queen's apartment. Their Majesties re- 
mained about an hour together; always under the gaze of 
the municipals. This continual torture for all the &mily 
of never being able to show any emotion, any effusion of 
feeling at a moment when so many fears agitated them, was 
one of the most refined cruelties of their tyrants and the one 
in which those tyrants took most delight The time came to 
separate. The king quitted the queen, Madame Elisabeth, 
and his daughter; their looks expressed what they could 
not say. The dauphin went down, as usual, with the 

The little prince, who often persuaded his father to play 
a game of Siam with him, was so urgent that day that the 
king, in spite of his situation, could not refuse. The dauphin 
lost all the games, and twice could not go higher than six- 
teen. ^ Every time I get to that point Seize I lose the 
game," he said with, some vexation. The king made no 
reply; but I thought I saw that the sound of that word 
made a certain impression on him. 

At eleven o'clock, while the king was giving his son a 
reading-lesson, two municipcds entered and told His Majesty 
that they had come to fetch young Louis and take him to 
his mother. The king wished to know the reason of this 

168 MADAME Elisabeth de France. [chap. a. 

removal ; the commissioners replied that they executed the 
orders of the council of the Commune. His Majesty kissed 
his son tenderly^ and charged me to go with him. When I 
returned to the king, I told him I had left the young prince 
in his mother^s arms, and that seemed to tranquillize His 
Majesty. One of the commissioners entered to inform him 
that Ghambon, mayor of Paris, was in the council-chamber 
and was coming up to see him. ''What does he want 
of me?'' asked the king. ''I do not know/' replied the 

His Majesty walked hastily up and down his room for 
some moments ; then he seated himself in an arm-chair dose 
to the head of his bed ; the door was half closed and the 
municipal dared not enter, to avoid, as he told me, questions. 
Half an hour passed thus in the deepest silence. The com- 
missioner became uneasy at not hearing the king ; he entered 
softly, and found him with his head on one of his hands, 
apparently deeply absorbed. " What do you want ? " asked 
the king, in a loud voice. " I feared you were ill," replied 
the municipal '^ I am obliged to you," said the king, in a 
tone of the keenest sorrow, '' but the manner in which my 
son has been taken from me is infinitely painful to ma" The 
municipal said nothing and withdrew. 

The mayor did not appear for an hour. He was accom- 
panied by Chaumette, public prosecutor of the Commune, 
Colombeau, secretary, several municipal officers, and Santerre, 
commander of the National Guard, who brought his aides-de- 
camp with him. 

The mayor told the king that he had come to fetch hiTn 
to take him before the Convention, in virtue of a decree which 
the secretary of the Commune would read to him. This 
decree stated that '' Louis Capet would be arraigned before 
the bar of the National Convention." ''Capet is not my 


name/' said the king; ^ it is the name of one of my ances- 
tors. I could have wished, monsiem*/' he added, ^ that the 
commissioners had left me my son during the two hours I 
have passed in waiting for you. This treatment is but the 
sequel of all that I have borne here for the past four months ; 
I shall now follow you, not to obey the Convention, but 
because my enemies have the power to force me." I gave 
His Majesty his overcoat and his hat, and he followed the 
mayor of Paris. A numerous escort awaited him at the gate 
of the Temple. 

Left alone in the room with a municipal I learned from 
him that the king would never see his family again, but that 
the mayor was to consult with some of the deputies about 
the separation. I asked the commissioner to take me to the 
dauphin, who was with the queen, which he did. I did not 
leave the little prince until six o'clock, when the king re- 
turned from the Convention. The municipals informed the 
queen of the king's departure for the Assembly, but they 
would not enter into any details. The princesses and the 
dauphin went down as usual to dine in the king's room, and 
returned to their own immediately. 

After dinner a single municipal remained in the queen's 
room ; he was a young man about twenty-four years of age, 
belonging to the section of the Temple ; he was on guard at 
the Tower for the first time, and seemed to be less suspicious 
and more civil than most of his colleagues. The queen be- 
gan a conversation with him, asked him about his profession, 
his parents, etc. Madame Elisabeth seized the moment to 
pass into her own room, and made me a sign to foUow 

Once there, I told her that the Commune had decreed the 
separation of the king from his family, that I feared it woidd 
take place that very evening, for although the Convention 

170 MADAME Elisabeth de france. [chat, il 

had not determined on it, the mayor had gone there to make 
the request, which would, no doubt, be granted. 

** The queen and I," answered Madame Clisabeth, "^ expect 
the worst ; we make ourselves no illusions as to the fate they 
are preparing for the king. He will die a victim to his kind- 
ness and his love for his people, for whose happiness he has 
never ceased to work since he ascended the throne. How 
cruelly that people is deceived 1 The king's religion and 
his great confidence in Providence will sustain him in this 
cruel adversity. "And now, Cl^ry," added the virtuous 
princess, her eyes filling with tears, " you will be alone with 
my brother ; redouble, if possible, your care of him, and neg« 
lect no means of making news of him reach us ; but for any 
other purpose do not expose yourself, for if you do we shall 
be left with no one in whom we can trust" I assured 
Madame iQlisabeth of my devotion to the king, and we agreed 
upon the means to employ to keep up a correspondence. 

Turgy was the only one whom I could put into the secret; 
but I could seldom speak to him, and then with precaution. 
It was agreed that I should continue to take care of the 
linen and clothes of the dauphin; that every two days I 
should send him what was necessary, and that I should use 
that opportimity to convey to them news of what was happen- 
itig with the king. This suggested to Madame Elisabeth the 
idea of giving me one of her handkerchie&. " Keep it,*' she 
said, " as long as my brother is well ; if he should be ill send 
it to me in my nephew's linen.'' The manner of folding it 
was to indicate the sort of illness. 

The grief of the princess in speaking to me of the king, 
her indifference as to her personal situation, the value she 
deigned to set on my poor services to His Majesty affected 
me deeply. " Have you heard anything said of the queen ? " 
she asked with a species of terror. ^ Alas ! what can they 


bring against her ? " ^ No> Madame," I replied, ^ but what 
can they bring against the king ? " " Oh, nothing, nothing/' 
she said, ^but perhaps they regard the king as a victim 
necessary to their safety. The queen, on the contrary, and 
her children cannot be obstacles to their ambition." I took 
the liberty of remarking that probably the king would be 
sentenced only to transportation ; that I had heard it spoken 
of, and that Spain, being the only country that had not de- 
clared war, it was likely that the king and his family would 
be taken there. '^ I have no hope," she said, ** that the king 
will be saved." 

I thought I ought to add that the foreign Powers were 
consulting as to the means of drawing the king out of prison ; 
that Monsieur and the Comte d'Artois were again assembling 
the imigris around them, and would unite them with the 
Austrian and Prussian troops; that Spain and England 
would take steps ; that all Europe was interested in prevent- 
ing the death of the king, and therefore that the Convention 
would have to reflect very seriously before deciding his fate. 

This conversation lasted an hour, and then Madame Elisa- 
beth (to whom I had never before spoken at such length), 
fearing the entrance of the new municipals, left me to return 
to the queen's apartment. Tison and his wife, who watched 
me incessantly, remarked that I had stayed a long time 
with Madame Elisabeth, and they were afraid that the com- 
missioner would notice it. I told them that the princess had 
been talking to me about her nephew, who would probably 
be in future with his mother. 

At six o'clock the commissioners sent for me into the 
ooundl-room. They read me a decree of the Commune 
which ordered me to have no further communication with 
the three princesses and the little prince, because I was to 
serve the king only. It was also decreed, in order to put the 


king into more solitary confinement, that I should no longer 
sleep in his apartment, but in the small tower, and be con- 
ducted to the king at such times only as he had need of 

At half-past six o'clock the king returned from the Ck)n- 
yention. He seemed fatigued, and lus first desire was to be 
taken to his family. The request was refused imder pretext 
of having no orders ; he insisted that the queen should at 
least be told of his return, and this was promised to >iiTn 
He ordered me to ask for his supper at half-past eight 
o'clock ; and he employed the interval in his usual reading, 
surrounded by four municipals. 

At half-past eight I went to inform His Majesty that his 
supper was served ; he asked the commissioners if his family 
were not coming down ; they made him no answer. '^ But 
at least," said the king, ^ my son will pass the night with 
me, his bed and clothes being here." Same silence. After 
supper the king agam insisted on his desire to see his family. 
They answered that he must await the decision of the Con- 
vention. I then gave out what was necessary for the young 
prince's bedtime. 

That evening, while I was undressing the king, he said : 
'^ I was very far from expecting the questions that were put 
to me." He went to bed tranquilly. The decree of the 
Commune relating to my removal during the night was not 
executed ; it would have been too troublesome to the muni- 
cipals to have fetched me every time the king needed me. 

The next day, 12th, the king no sooner saw the municipals 
than he asked if a decision had been made on his request to 
see his family. They told him they were still awaiting 
orders. The king commanded me to have the young prince's 
bed taken up to the queen's room, where he had passed the 
night on one of her mattresses. I begged His Majesty to 


wait for the decision of the Conyention. ^ I do not expect 
any justice, any consideration/' replied the king, '* but I will 

The same day a deputation of four members of the Con- 
yention brought to the king a decree authorizing him to 
obtain counsel He declared that he chose M. Taiget, and 
failing him, M. Tronchet, or both of them if the National 
Conyention consented. The deputies made the king sign 
his request, and signed it themselyes after him. The king 
added that it would be necessary to furnish him with paper, 
pens, and ink. 

On the 13 th, in the morning, the same deputation returned 
and told the king that M. Target refused to be his counsel ; 
that M. Tronchet had been sent for and would doubtless ap- 
pear during the day. They also read to him seyeral letters ad- 
dressed to the Conyention by MM. Sourdat, Huet<7uillaume, 
and Lamoignon de Malesherbes, formerly president of the 
eour des aides and afterwards minister of the king's housa 
Malesherbes' letter was as follows : — 

Parii, December 11, 1702. 

Citizen President, — I do not know whether the Conyen- 
tion will giye Louis XYL counsel to defend him, or whether it 
will leaye the selection to him. In the latter case, I desire 
that Louis XYL should know that if he chooses me for that 
function I am ready to deyote myself to it. I do not ask 
you to lay my offer before the Conyention, because I am far 
from thinking myself of enough importance to occupy its 
time ; but I haye twice been called to the counsel of him who 
was once my master, in days when eyeiy one was ambitious 
of that function; I owe him the same seryice when that 
function is one which many persons would think dangerous. 
If I knew any possible means of letting him know my in- 

174 MADAME Elisabeth de fhance. [chap. u. 

clinationB^ I would not take the liberty of addressing you. 

I think that in the position you occupy^ you will have better 

means than any one to convey to him this suggestion. I am, 

with respect, etc., 

Lamoignon de Maleshsbbes. 

His Majesty replied as follows to the deputation : '* I 
am sensible of the offers that so many persons have made, 
asking to serve me as counsel, and I beg you to express to 
them my gratitude. I accept M. de Malesherbes as my 
coimsel ; if M. Tronchet cannot lend me his services, I will 
consult M. de Malesherbes and choose some one to fill his 

1792] THE CAPnvnT OP LOUIS XVL 175 


The King's Trial— His Will — The Decree of the Conrention con- 
demning the King to Death — Last Meeting with his Family ^Leayes 
the Temple for his Execution. 

December 14, M. Tronchet had, as the decree permitted, 
a conference with His Majesty. The same day M. de Male- 
sherbes was brought to the Tower. The king ran forward to 
meet that respected old man, whom he tenderly pressed in 
his arms. The former minister burst into tears on seeing 
his master, whether because he recalled the past years of his 
reign, or, more probably, because he faced at that moment a 
virtuous man in the grasp of misfortune.^ 

As the king had permission to confer with his counsel in 
private, I closed the door of his room that he might speak 
more freely with M. de Malesherbes. A municipal blamed 
me, ordered the door to be opened, and forbade me to shut it 
again ; I opened the door, but the kiog was already in the 

On the 15th, the king received the reply regarding his 
family, which was, in substance, as . follows : the queen 
and Madame Elisabeth could not communicate with the king 
during the course of his trial ; his children might go to him 
if he desired it, but on condition that they should not see 
their mother or their aunt until the trial was over. As soon 
as it was possible to speak to the king freely, I asked his 
orders. " You see," he said, " the cruel alternative in which 
they place me ; I cannot resolve to have my children with 

1 Lamoignon de Malesherbes, aged 78, was guillotined just before the 
9th thermidor (July 27, 1794), the end of the Beign of Terror. — Tb. 

176 MADAME Elisabeth de France, [ohap. hi. 

me ; as for my daughter, it is impossible ; as for my son, I 
feel the grief it would occasion to the queen ; I must consent to 
this fresh sacrifice." His Majesty then ordered me for the 
second time to have the dauphin's bed sent up to the queen's 
room, which I did immediately. I kept his linen and his 
clothes, and every second day I sent up what was necessary 
as agreed upon with Madame Elisabeth. 

On the 16th, at four in the afternoon, came another depu- 
tation of four members of the Convention, accompanied by a 
secretary, a sheriff, and an ofl&cer of the Gardes. They brought 
the king his arraignment, and certain documents on which 
the accusations were based; most of them found at the 
Tuileries in a secret closet of His Majesty's apartment, 
called by the minister Roland " the iron closet." 

The reading of these documents, one hundred and seven 
in all, lasted from four o'clock tiU midnight ; all were read 
to and signed by the king, and copies of each were left in 
his hands. The king was seated at a laige table ; M. Tron- 
(diet beside him, the deputies opposite. His Majesty inter- 
rupted the long session by asking the deputies if they would 
sup ; they accepted, and I served them a cold chicken and 
some fruit in the dining-room. M. Tronchet would take 
nothing, and remained alone with the king in his room. 

A municipal, named Merceraut, then a stone-cutter and 
lately president of the Commune of Paris, though a porter 
of sedan chairs at Versailles before the Bevolution, was on 
guard that day in the Tower for the first time. He wore 
his working-clothes in tatters, with a very old round hat, a 
leather apron, and his three-coloured scarf. The man affected 
to stretch himself out in an arm-chair beside the king, who 
was in a common chair ; he thee'd and thou'd, with his hat 
on his head, all who spoke to him. The members of the 
Convention were amazed, and while they supped, one of them 


asked me several questions as to how the king was treated. 
I was about to answer when a commissioner told the con- 
yentional it was forbidden to speak to me^ and that they 
would give him in the coimcil-chamber all the details he 
could require. The deputy, fearing no doubt to compromise 
himself, said no more. 

Among the bundles of documents were plans for the Con- 
stitution, annotated by the king^s own hand, sometimes in 
ink, sometimes in pencil There were also police registers 
in which were denunciations made and signed by the king's 
own servants ; this ingratitude seemed to affect him much ; 
these accusers rendered an account of what occurred in the 
king's room and the queen's room at the Tuileries in order 
to give a more truthful air to their calumnies. 

From the 14th to the 26th of December, the king saw 
his counsel regularly. They came at five in the evening 
and retired at nine. M. de S^ze was added to them. Every 
morning M. de Malesherbes brought the newspapers to his 
Majesty with the printed opinions of the deputies relating 
to his triaL He prepared the work for the evening, and re- 
mained with the king for one or two hours. His Majesty 
deigned to sometimes let me read those opinions ; once he 
asked : ** What do you think of that man's opinion ? " adding, 
^ I have learned how far the malignancy of men can go ; I 
did not believe that there were such men." His Majesty 
never went to bed without reading all the different papers, 
and, in order not to compromise M. de Malesherbes, he 
took the precaution to bum them himself in the stove 
in his cabinet. 

By this time I had found a favourable moment to speak 
to Turgy and send news to Madame !l^isabeth about the 
king. The next day he told me that in giving him her 
napkin after dinner she had slipped in a little note in pin- 


178 MADAME Elisabeth de France, [chap. io. 

pricks asking the king to write her a line himsell The 
day after, I took the note to Turgy, who brought me the 
answer inside a ball of cotton, which he threw on my bed 
as he passed it. His Majesty took great comfort in the 
success of this means of communicating with his family. 
The wax-candles which the commissioners gave me came 
tied up with twine in bundles. As soon as I had twine 
enough I told the king that we could give greater activity 
than before to the correspondence, by sending up a part of 
it to Madame Elisabeth whose room was directly over mine, 
with its window perpendicularly above that of a Uttle corri- 
dor upon which my room opened. During the night the 
princess could attach letters to the string and lower them 
down to the passage window. The same means would serve to 
send answers to the princess, also paper and ink, of which she 
was deprived. " That is a good project," the king said to me ; 
^^we will use it if the other means become impracticable." 
In point of fact, he soon used it exclusively. He always 
waited till eight in the evening ; I then shut the door of my 
room and that of the corridor, and went to talk to the com- 
missioners or get them to play cards, which diverted their 

After hiB separation from Ms family the king refused to 
go into the garden, and when it was proposed to him to do 
so he answered : " I cannot resolve to go out alone ; walking 
was only agreeable to me when I enjoyed it with my family." 
But, in spite of being thus parted from objects so dear to his 
heart, no complaints or murmurs escaped him; he had al- 
ready pardoned his oppressors. Each day he gathered in 
his "reading-room the strength that maintained his courage ; 
when he left it he entered the details of a life always uni- 
form yet embellished by him with little traits of kindness. 
He deigned to treat me as if I were more than his servant ; 


he treated the municipals who guarded his person as if he 
had no reason to complain of them ; he talked to them^ as 
formerly with his subjects, on matters relating to their condi- 
tion, their family, their children, the advantages and duties 
of their profession. Those who listened were astonished at the 
accuracy of his remarks, at the variety of his knowledge, and 
at the manner in which it was all classified in his memory. 
His conversations did not have as their object the distraction 
of his mind from his troubles ; his sensibility was keen and 
deep, but his resignation rose superior to his sorrows. 

On the 19th of December the king said to me while din- 
ing: "Fourteen years ago you got up earlier than you did 
to-day." I understood His Majesty at onca " That was the 
day my daughter was bom," he continued tenderly, "and 
to-day, her birthday, I am deprived of seeing her I " A few 
tears rolled from his eyes, and a respectful silence reigned 
for a moment 

The day for his second appearance before the bar of the 
Convention was approaching. He had not been able to 
shave since they took away his razors; he suffered much 
in consequence, and was obliged to bathe his face in cold 
water several times a day. He asked me for scissors or a 
razor; but he was not willing to speak to the municipals 
about it himself. I took the liberty of remarking to him 
that if he appeared in his present condition before the Con- 
vention the people would see with what barbarity the coun- 
cil of the Commune had acted. "I ought not to try to 
interest persons in that way in my fate," replied the king ; 
" I will address the commissioners." The following day the 
Commune decided to return the razors to the king, but for 
use only in presence of two municipals.^ 

During the three days that preceded Christmas, 1792, the 

> See Appendix IIL 

180 MADAME Elisabeth db fbance. [ohap. hl 

king wrote more than usual There was then a project of 
making him staj at the Feuillants for two or three days in 
order that he might be tried continuously. They had even 
given me orders to prepare to follow him and to get ready 
all that he might need ; but that plan was changed. 

It was on Christmas Day that the king wrote his wilL 
I read it and copied it at the time it was handed over to the 
council of the Temple ; it was written entirely by the king's 
own handy with a few erasures. I think I ought to give 
here this monument, already celebrated, of his innocence 
and his piety: — 



In the name of the Holy Trinity, Father, Son, and Holy 
Spirit This day, twenty-fifth of December, one thousand 
seven hundred and ninety-two, I, Louis, sixteenth of the 
name. King of France, being for the last four months shut 
up with my family in the Tower of the Temple by those 
who were my subjects, and deprived of all communication 
whatsoever since the eleventh of the present month with my 
family ; involved moreover in a trial of which it is impos- 
sible to foresee the issue, because of the passions of men, 
and for which no pretext or means can be found in existing 
laws ; having God as the sole witness of my thoughts and 
the only being to whom I can address myself, I here declare 
in his presence my last will and sentiments. 

I leave my soul to Grod, my Creator ; I pray him to re- 
ceive it in his mercy ; not to judge it according to its own 
merits, but by those of our Lord Jesus Christ, who offered 
himself a sacrifice to God, his Father, for us men, however 
unworthy we may be, and I first of any. 


I die in the union of our Holy Mother, the CathoUc, 
Apostolical, and Soman Church, which derives its powers by 
an uninterrupted succession from Saint Peter to whom Jesus 
Christ confided them. 

I believe firmly and confess all that is contained in the 
symbol and the commandments of Gk>d and of the Church, 
the sacraments and the mysteries such as the Catholic 
Church teaches and has always taught them. I have never 
pretended to make myself a judge of the different manners 
of explaining the dogmas that rend the Church of Jesus 
Christ; but I have relied, and shall always rely, if God 
gives me life, on the decisions which the ecclesiastical su- 
periors of the holy Catholic Church give and will give in 
conformity with the discipline of the Church, followed since 
Jesus Christ 

I pity with all my heart our brothers who may be in 
error ; but I do not pretend to judge them, and I do not love 
them, one and all, less in Jesus Christ, following what 
Christian charity teaches. 

I pray God to forgive me all my sins ; I have scrupulously 
tried to know them, to detest them, and to humiliate my- 
self in his presence. Not being able to have the ministiy 
of a Catholic priest, I pray God to receive the confession 
which I have made to him, and, especially, the deep repen- 
tance which I feel for having put my name (though against 
my will) to acts which may have been contrary to the dis- 
cipline and the belief of the Catholic Church, to which I 
have always remained sincerely united in heart. I pray 
God to receive the firm resolution in which I am to employ, 
if he grants me life, as soon as I can, the ministry of a 
Catholic priest to confess all my sins and to receive the 
sacrament of repentance. 

I b^ all those whom I may have injured through inad- 

182 MADAME Elisabeth de fbance. [ohap. m. 

vertence (for I do not remember to have knowingly injured 
any one), and those to whom I may have set a bad example 
or caused offence, to forgive me the wrong they may think that 
I have done them ; I beg all those who have charity to unite 
their prayers to mine to obtain of (xod the pardon of my sins. 

I pardon with all my heart those who have made them- 
selves my enemies without my having given them any cause, 
and I pray God to pardon them, as well as those who, from 
false zeal or misdirected zeal, have done me much harm. 

I commend to God my wife and my children, my sister, 
my aunts, my brothers, and all those who are attached to 
me by ties of blood, or by any other manner whatsoever. 
I pray God especially to cast the eyes of his merc^^ on my 
wife, my children, and my sister, who have suffered so long 
with me ; to support them by Ms grace if they lose me, and 
for as long as they remain in this perishable world. 

I commend my children to my wife ; I have never doubted 
her maternal tenderness for them ; I entreat her, above all, 
to make good Christians and honest beings of them, to teach 
them to regard the grandeurs of this world (if they are 
condemned to experience them) as dangerous and perish- 
able benefits, and to turn their eyes towards the only solid 
and durable gloiy of eternity. I beg my sister to continue 
her tenderness to my children, and to stand to them in place 
of a mother should they have the misfortune to lose theirs. 

I beg my wife to forgive me for all the ills she has 
suffered for me, and the griefe I may have caused her in the 
course of our union ; just as she may be sure that I keep 
nothing against her should she think she has anything for 
which to blame herself. 

I request very earnestly of my children, after what they 
owe to God who comes before all, to remain united with each 
other, submissive and obedient to their mother and grateful 

y.. y,,/. 

1^'2 VADAMK fUSAr:\H DE KKANCE. [rn..r. nr. 

'. I'T I do 11. 'l ronirf.i''.'T to have knowingly miuie«i 

aii'l tljO'^c i" v'l-iTi I rnay lirive sot a bad exiim}»ir 

.''!; iii'i' :•' fc!:'\L^ Tue ilif wp iiij tlu^v mav iliiuk Uuil 

!H' Lit 'III ; 1 1".\l; nil Jijh^ who have charity to unit** 

; \'\:*'i^ to n-.'.'u^ to t)l lain of God the pardon of mv sip>. 

■ . 'I'i'in w /:. .11 ^i V Jieait i]j.'«>e who have made theip- 

' V.' ' It u'.y havin:: (riven them any car..^e, 
. i\iou t]ii::n, as well as those who, h^nn 
•■ •♦ .1 7Q'Aj liiive done me much harm. 

my wiiVi and my children, my sister. 

: '» and uU tho^^e who are atta'jhed :-.■ 

' ;. or hv any other maimer whatsoevei. 

iiv' to ca.-.t the evfS of his mercv on mv 

. jtivl my si.-i'T, who have suffered so loop 

rt thoKi hy li^s ^]\n v if they lose me, and 

■y remain in this ]»fvi<haMo world- 

my children to mv w'ii\' ; I have never doul-l^d 

tend(.-iTn.''S fur thrni ; I eiitreat her, above all, 

d C'hri-tI.i?[S and iK^ne.^i bfi'^;:? of them, to teach 

iwavd tl^e grondt-nrs of this world (if they are 

>d to exporieiir«» ilu'T.-s) a? dangiTous and perish- 

■ :.z\ and to ta/ri *]n[v cyv.^i t-nvards the only s<'lid 

:.' rl TV "f '.^riiiiv. I 1h*^ mv si>^ter to continue 

' • .•})i!d:"i\ ami to stand to them in place 

.»• have 1 he mi^f .vlmie tn lose theirs. 

• .jiri^o P'^^' f'^r all the ills she has 

• .1' p-ir^M I Tnay have cau.=ied her in the 
. ]\\^t as she may he sure that 1 kee{» 

• . 'vdd she think she has an}*thing for 

■ of mv ehihhen, after what thev 

n» p11, to n-mnin uniud with c.u-h 

x«aci\t to their mc-iher and grateful 

' , •. •'< 

D\\ • 'I 

" ' 

.1 1 

V'\- ' 

'■ < I 

ul-e zeal .';• 


1 <• 

'i.- '-• ! 


niv !•' 



UK 1 

1 1 • 

w :u' 


w • i 

for ,. 

1 J 

I . 



h«'i ' 




for all the care and trouble she gives herself for them, and 
in memory of m& I beg them to regard my sister as a 
second mother. 

I beg my* son, if he has the misfortune to become king, to 
reflect that he owes himself wholly to the welfare of his co- 
citizens ; that he ought to forget all hatred and all resent- 
ment, especially that which relates to the misfortunes and 
griefs that I have borne ; that he cannot make the happiness 
of the people except by reigning according to the laws ; but, 
at the same time, that a king cannot make the laws respected 
and do the good which is in his heart to do unless he has 
the necessary authority; otherwise, being fettered in his 
operations and inspiring no respect, he is more harmful than 

I commend to my son to take care of all the persons who 
have been attached to me, so far as the circumstances in 
which he may be placed will give him the ability ; to re- 
member that this is a sacred debt contracted by me towards 
the children and relatives of those who have perished for 
me, and towards those who are unfortunate for my sake. 

I know that there are several persons among those who 
were attached to me who have not acted towards me as they 
should have done, and have even shown me ingratitude ; but 
I pardon them (often in moments of trouble and excitement 
persons are not masters of themselves), and I beg my son, 
should the occasion come to him, to remember only their 

I wish that I could manifest here my gratitude to those 
who have shown me a veritable and disinterested attach- 
ment ; if, on the one hand, I have keenly felt the ingratitude 
and disloyalty of persons to whom I had never shown any- 
thing but kindness (to them, or their relatives, or to the 
friends of both), I have had the consolation of seeing the 

184 ifAnAine iuSABETH BE FRANCK [gkat. m. 

giatnitonB attadunent and interest tiiat many peisons have 
shown me ; I b^ those peisans to receive my thanks. In 
the condition in whidi things now are, I should fear to oom- 
promise them if I spoke more ezplidtlyy but I specially 
request my son to seek occasions of being able to recognize 

NeverthelesSy I think I should calumniate the sentiments 
of the nation if I did not commend openly to my son 
M\f_ de GhamiUy and HuiS, whose true attachment to me 
led them to shut themselyes up in this sad place, and who 
came so near being also the unfortunate victims of it I like- 
wise recommend to him d^ry, whose care I have eveiy reason 
to praise since he has been with me ; as it is he who will re- 
main with me to the end, I b^ the gentlemen of the Commune 
to give him my dothes, my books, my watch, my purse, and 
whatever little property has been deposited with the coun- 
cil of the Commune. 

I pardon once more, very willingly, those who guard me 
for the ill-treatment and the annoyances they have thought 
it their duty to practice towards me. I have met with some 
compassionate and feeling souls; may they enjoy in their 
hearts the tranquillity that their way of thinking will give 

I b^ MM. de Malesherbes, Tronchet, and de S&ze to 
receive here my thanks and the expression of my feelings for 
the cares and trouble they have taken for me. 

I end by declaring before God, and about to appear before 
him, that I do not reproach myself with any of the crimes 
laid to my charge. 

Done, in duplicate, at the Tower of the Temple, the 
twenty-fifth day of December, one thousand, seven hundred 
and ninety-twa 



On the 26th of December, the king was taken for the 
second time before the bar of the ConventioiL I had warned 
the queen, lest the noise of the drums and the movements of 
the troops should frighten her. His Majesty started at ten 
in the morning and returned at five in the afternoon. His 
counsel came that evening just as the king was finishing 
dinner; he asked them to take some refreshment; M. de S^ze 
was the only one who accepted the ojGTer. The king thanked 
him for the pains he had taken in making his speech. 

The next day His Majesty deigned to give me himself 
his printed defence, after asking the commissioners if he 
could do so without impropriety. Commissioner Vincent, a 
contractor for buildings, who had done the royal family all 
the services in his power, undertook to carry a copy secretly 
to the queen. He took advantage of the moment when the 
king thanked him for this little service to ask for the gift of 
something that had belonged to him. His Majesty unfastened 
his cravat and gave it to him. At another time he gave his 
gloves to a municipal, who desired to have them from the 
same motive. Even to the eyes of several of his guards, his 
remains were already sacred. 

On the 1st of January, 1793, 1 went to the bedside of the 
king and asked him in a low voice to be allowed to ojGTer my 
earnest wishes for the end of his troubles. ** I receive those 
wishes," he said affectionately, holding out his hand, which 
I kissed and wet with my tears. As soon as he rose, he 
begged a municipal to go from Tiini to inquire news of his 
family and give them his wishes for the new year. The 
municipals were much moved by the tone in which these 
words, so heart-rending in view of the king's situation, were 
said. ^ Why," said one of them to me after the king had 
gone into his cabinet, ^why does he not ask to see his 
family? Now that the examinations are over there would 

186 MADAME Elisabeth de France, [chap. m. 

be no difficulty ; but it is to the Convention that he ought to 
make the request" The municipal who had gone to see the 
queen returned and announced to the king that his family 
thanked him for his good wishes and sent him their own. 
" What a New-Year's day I " exclaimed His Majesty. 

That same evening I took the Hberty of telling him I was 
almost certain of the consent of the Convention if he asked 
to be permitted to see his family. "In a few days," he 
replied, " they will not refuse me that consolation ; I must 

The nearer the day for the verdict approached, — if one 
can use that term [jttgemenf] for the proceedings the king 
was made to undergo, — the more my fears and anguish in- 
creased. I asked a hundred questions of the municipals, 
and everything I heard added to my terror. My wife came 
to see me every week, and gave me an exact account of what 
was going on in Paris. Public opinion seemed to be still 
favourable to the king; it was shown in a startling way at 
the Thd&tre Fran^ais and at the Vaudeville. At the first, 
they were playing "L'Ami des Lois;" all the allusions to 
the trial of the king were seized and applauded vehemently. 
At the Vaudeville, one of the personages in "La Chaste 
Suzanne" says to the two old men, "How can you be 
accusers and judges both ? " The audience insisted on the 
repetition of that speech many times. I gave the king a 
copy of "L'Ami des Lois." I often told him, and I also 
almost brought myself to believe it, that the members of the 
Convention, being opposed to one another, could pronounce 
only for the penalty of imprisonment or transportation. 
" May they have that moderation for my family," said the 
king ; " it is only for them that I fear." 

Certain persons sent me word through my wife that a con- 
siderable sum of money, deposited with M. Pariseau, editor 


of the •'Feuille du jour," waa at the king's disposal; they 
requested me to ask his orders and say that the money would 
be paid to M. de Malesherbes if the king wished it ^ Thank 
those persons much, for me," he replied. " I cannot accept 
their generous ojBfer, it would be to expose them." I begged 
him at least to mention the matter to M. de Malesherbes, 
and he promised to do so. 

The correspondence between Their Majesties continued. 
The king, informed of Madame Eoyale's illness, was very 
uneasy for some days. The queen, after much entreaty, 
obtained permission for M. Brunier, her children's physician, 
to come to the Temple ; this seemed to tranquillize him. 

On the 16th of January, at six in the evening, four muni- 
cipals entered the king's chamber and read to him a decree 
of the Commune, the substance of which was '' that he be 
guarded night and day by four mimicipals; two of whom 
were to pass the night beside his bed." The king asked if 
his sentence had been pronounced. One of them (Du 
Boure) began by sitting down in the arm-chair of the king, 
who was standing ; he answered that he did not trouble him- 
self to know what went on in the Convention, but he had 
heard some one say they were still calling the votes. 

A few moments later M. de Malesherbes arrived and told 
the king that the call of the votes [Vappd nominal] was 
not yet ended. While he was there the chimney of a room 
in the palace of the Temple took fire. A considerable crowd 
of people entered the courtyard. A commissioner came in 
alarm to teU M. de Malesherbes that he must go away im- 
mediately. M. de Malesherbes withdrew, after promising the 
king he would return to inform him of his sentenca " Why 
are you so alarmed ? " I asked the commissioner. **They have 
set fire to the Temple/ he said, " in order to rescue Capet in 
the tumult ; but I have surrounded the walls with a strong 

188 MADAME Elisabeth de France. [cHiLP. m. 

gruard." The fire was soon out, and it was shown to have 
been a mere accident 

Thursday, Januaiy 17th, M. de Malesherbes came at nine 
in the morning ; I went to meet him. ** All is lost/' he said ; 
"the king is condemned to death." The king, who saw 
him coming, rose to receive him. The minister threw him- 
self at his feet, his sobs choked him, and it was some time 
before he could speak. The king raised him and pressed 
him against his bosom with affection. M. de Malesherbes 
told him of his condemnation to death ; the kiog made no 
movement that showed either surprise or emotion ; he seemed 
to be affected only by the grief of the old man, and tried to 
comfort him. 

M. de Malesherbes gave an account to the king of the 
voting. Denouncers, relatives, personal enemies, laym^i, 
ecclesiastics, absent deputies, all had voted, and, in spite of 
this violation of the forms, those who had voted for death — 
some as a political measure, others on pretence that the kiog 
was guilty — carried it by a majority of only five votes. Sev- 
eral deputies voted for death with respite [8u/rsi8\, A second 
vote was taken on this latter point, and it is to be presumed 
that the votes of those who wished to retard the commission 
of the regicide, joined to the votes of those who were against 
the death penalty, would have formed a majority. But, at 
the doors of the Convention, assassins devoted to the Due 
d'Orl^ans and to the deputation of the Paris Ciommime, 
terrified by their cries and threatened with their knives who- 
ever refused to listen to them ; and whether it was stupor, 
indifference, or fear, no one dared to undertake anything 
further to save the king. 

His Majesty obtained permission to see M. de Malesherbes 
in private. He took him into his cabinet, shut the door, and 
was alone with him for about an hour. His Majesty then 

17M] THB CAPTlvrrY 0^ LOUIS XVl 189 

conducted him to the entrance door> and asked him to come 
early that evening, and not to abandon him in his last mo- 
ments. '' The sorrow of that good old man has deeply af- 
fected me" said the king, returning to the room where I 
waited for him. 

From the moment of M. de Malesherbes' entrance a great 
trembling had seized me ; nevertheless I prepared what was 
necessary for the king to shave himself. He himself put the 
soap on his face, standing before me while I held the basin. 
Forced to control my grief, I had not yet dared to raise my 
eyes to my imfortunate master; by chance I looked at him 
and my tears flowed in spite of myself. I do not know if 
the state in which I was reminded the king of his position, 
but a sudden paleness overspread his face ; his nose and his 
ears blanched suddenly. At that sight my knees gave way 
under me ; the king, who noticed my fainting state, took me 
by both hands, pressed them hard, and said in a low voice, 
^Come, more courage." He was watched; a mute reply 
showed him my affection ; he seemed to feel it ; his face 
recovered its tone, he went on shaving tranquilly, and then 
I dressed him. 

His Majesty remained in his chamber till dinner-time 
readingor walking up and down. In the evening I saw him 
go towards his cabinet, and I followed him, under pretext 
that he might need my services. ^ Have you read the report 
of my sentence ? " asked the king. ** Ah, Sire ! " I said, ^ let 
us hope for a respita M. de Malesherbes thinks it cannot 
be refused." ** I seek for no hope," replied the king ; " but I 
am much grieved that M. d'Orl^ans, my relative, should have 
voted for my death. Bead that list" He gave me the list 
of the call of the House \appd nominal] which he held in 
his hand. " The public are murmuring loudly," I said to 
him. ^ Dumouriez is in Paris ; they say he is the bearer of 

190 MADAME Elisabeth de France, [ck^. in. 

a request from his army against the trial that has just taken 
place. The people revolt against the infamous conduct of 
the Due d'Orl^ans. There is a rumour that the ambassadors 
of the foreign Powers are to assemble and go before the Con- 
vention. They say that the members are in fear of a popular 
uprising." **I should be very sorry if it took place/' said 
the king; "there would be more victims. I do not fear 
death," he added, " but I cannot contemplate without a shud- 
der the cruel fate that I leave behind me for my family, for 
the queen, for my unfortunate children ! — and those faithful 
servants who never abandoned me, those old men who have 
no other means of subsistence than the modest pensions that 
I gave them, who will help them ? I see the people given 
over to anarchy, becoming the victim of all the factions, 
crimes succeeding one another, perpetual dissensions rending 
France ! " Then after a short silence : " my God ! is that 
the price I must receive for aU my sacrifices ? Did I not do 
aU to procure the happiness of Frenchmen ? " As he said 
those words he clasped my hand. Filled with a sacred re- 
spect I watered his with my tears. I was obliged to leave 
him in that state. 

The king waited vainly all that evening for M. de Males- 
herbes. At night he asked me if he had come. I had 
asked the same question of the commissioners^ and they 
answered no. 

Wednesday, 18th, the king, hearing nothing of M. de 
Malesherbes, became very uneasy. An old "Mercure de 
France " falling into his hands, he there read a riddle which 
he gave me to guess. I tried in vain to make it out ** What I 
you cannot find it out ? " he said ; " yet it is very applicable 
to me at this moment. The word is Sacrifice." He ordered 
me to look in the library for the volume of the History of 
England that contaiaed an account of the death of Charles L 

1793] THB cAPnvnr of louis xvl 191 

On this occasion^ I diBcovered that the king had read two 
hundred and fifty volumes since his imprisonment in the 
Temple. That eveniog I took the liberty of saying to him 
that he could not be deprived of his counsel, except by a 
decree of the Cionvention, and that he ought to ask for their 
admission to the Tower. "I will wait till to-morrow," 
replied the king. 

Saturday, 19th, at nine in the morning, a mimicipal named 
Qobeau entered, a paper in his hand. He was accompanied 
by the porter of the Tower, named Mathey, who carried an 
inkstand. The municipal told the king he had orders to 
make an inventory of all his property and effects. His 
Majesty left me with him and retired into the tourelle. 
Then, under pretence of the inventory, the municipal began 
to rummage with the most minute care, to be certain, he 
said, that no weapon or dangerous instrument had been 
hidden in the king's room. Presently nothing was left to 
search but a little bureau in which were papers. The king 
was obliged to come and open all the drawers, to unfold 
and show every paper one after the other. There were 
three rolls of coin at the back of one drawer; they wished 
to examine thenu ^That money," said the king, ''is not 
mine ; it belongs to M. de Malesherbes." I had prepared it 
to return to him. The three rolls contained three thousand 
francs in gold ; on the paper that wrapped each roll the 
king had written with his own hand, ^ Belonging to M. de 

While the same search was made in the tourelle the king 
returned to his chamber and wanted to warm himsell The 
porter, Mathey, was at that moment before the fire, holding 
his coat-tails up with his back to the fire. The king could 
not warm himself on either side of the man, and the in- 
solent porter not moving, the king told him with some 

192 KABA1CE tusA^trrn tm feance. [ohap. m, 

asperity to stand a little aside. Mathey withdrew^ and the 
municipals went out soon after, having failed in their 

That evemng the king told the commissioners to ask the 
Commune the reason why his counsel were denied admission 
to the Tower, saying that he desired at least to consult 
with M. de Malesherbes. They promised to speak of it» 
but one of them said they were forbidden to take any com- 
munication from the king to the council of the Commune 
imless it were written and signed by his own hand. ^ Then 
why," replied the king, " have I been left for two days in 
ignorance of that change ? " He wrote the request and 
gave it to the mimicipals ; but they did not take it to the 
Commune until the next day. The king asked to see his 
counsel freely, and complained of the decree which ordered 
the municipals to keep him in sight day and night. ^ They 
ought to feeV he wrote to the Commune, ^ that in the posi- 
tion I am in it is very painful not to have the tranquillity 
necessary to enable me to collect mysell" 

Sunday, January 20, the king, as soon as he rose, in- 
quired of the municipals if they had taken his request to 
the Communa They assmred him that they had taken it 
immediately. Towards ten o'clock I entered the king's 
room; he said to me: ^M. de Malesherbes has not yet 
come." ^ Sire," I replied, ^' I have just learned that he has 
been here several times, but his entrance to the Tower is 
always refused." '* I shall know the reason of that refusal," 
replied the king, " when the Commune decides upon my 
letter." He walked about his room and read and wrote, 
occupying himself thus the whole morning. 

Two o'clock had just struck when the door was suddenly 
opened to admit the Executive counciL Twelve or fifteen 
persons came in at once : Garat, minister of justice ; Lebrun, 


mmister of foreign affairs ; Groaville, secretary of the coun- 
cil ; the president and the prosecuting-Byndic of the depart- 
ment ; the mayor and public prosecutor of the Ciommune ; the 
president and prosecuting attorney of the criminal tribunal : 
Santerre, who advanced before the others^ said to me: 
^Announce the Executive council" The king^who heard 
the noise of the arrival^ had risen and made a few steps 
forward; but, on seeing this procession, he stopped in the 
doorway between his room and the antechamber, in a most 
noble and imposing attitude. I was beside him. Gkurat, his 
hat on his head, spoke and said : ^ Louis, the National (Ton- 
yention has ordered the Provisional Executive council to 
make known to you its decree of the 15th, 16th, 17th, 19th 
and 20th of January, 1793 ; the secretary of the council will 
now read it to you." Then Grouville, the secretary, unfolded 
the decree and read it in a weak and trembling voice : — 

DecTU of the NoMotmI Convention of the 15th to the 20th 

of January. 

Article L The National Convention declares Louis Capet 
last King of the French, guilty of conspiracy against the 
liberty of the Nation, and of criminal attempts against the 
general safety of the State. 

Abticlb IL The National Convention declares that Louis 
Capet shall suffer the penalty of death. 

Abticle IIL The National Convention declares null the 
act of Louis Capet brought to the bar of the Convention by 
his counsel, called an appeal to the nation from the judg- 
ment rendered against him by the Convention ; it forbids all 
persons from taking it up, under pain of being tried and 
punished as guilty of criminal attempts against the safety 
of the Bepublic. ^ ' " * ' 



Abtigub IY. The Ite^isioiial Execoti ve Goiuicil wiU 1^^ 
the present decree in the cooise of this day to Louis Capet, 
and take the necessary police and safety measures to cany 
out the execation within twenty-four hours from the time 
of its notification; rendering an account of all to the 
National Convention immediately after the execution. 

During the reading of the decree not the slightest change 
appeared on the face of the king. I noticed only that in 
the jSrst Article, when the word ^^ conspiracy " was uttered, 
a smile of indignation came upon his lips ; but at the words 
^ suifer the penalty of death/' a heavenly look which he cast 
on all those who surrounded him told tiiem that death was 
without terrors for innocence. 

The king made a step towards GrouviUe, the secretary, 
took the decree from his hand, folded it, drew his portfolio 
from his pocket, and put the paper into it. Then, takii^ 
another paper from the same portfolio, he said to Gkurat: 
<< Monsieur the minister of justice, I beg you to send this 
letter at once to the National Convention." The minister 
seeming to hesitate, the king added, ^ I will read it to you»'' 
and without any change of tone he read what follows : — 

** I ask for a delay of three days that I may prepare my- 
self to appear before God. I demand for the same purpose 
to be able to see freely the person I shall name to the com- 
missioners of the Commune, and that the said person shall 
be protected from all anxiety about the act of charity which 
he will do for me. 

* I ask to be delivered from the incessant watching which 
the council of the Commune established recently. 

''I ask to be able, during that interval, to see my family 
when I ask it, and without witnesses. 

^I much desire that the National Convention shall at 
once concern itself with the fate of my family, and that it 

1798] THE CAFnvirT OF LOUIS XVL 196 

pennit them to retire freely wherever they may wiah 
to go. 

^ I commend to the beneficence of the Nation all the per- 
sons who have been attached to me. Many have put their 
whole fortunes into their ofElces, and now, receiving no sal- 
aries, they must be in need ; the same must also be the case 
with those who had only their salaries to support them ; and 
among the pensionaries, there are many old men, women, and 
children who have nothing but their pensions to live upon. 

''Done in the Tower of the Temple, January 20, one 
thousand seven himdred and ninety-three. Loui&* 

Garat took the king's letter and assured him that he 
would take it to the Convention. As he was leaving, the 
king drew another paper from his pocket and said : ** Mon* 
fiieur, if the Convention grants my request for the person I 
desire, here is his address." That address, in another 
handwriting than that of the king^ was as follows : ^ Mon- 
sieur Edgeworth de Firmont, No. 483 rue du Bac." The 
king then walked a few steps back ; the minister and those 
who accompanied him went away. 

His Majesty paced for a moment up and down his room ; 
I stood leaning against the door as if deprived of all feeling. 
The king came to me and said, ^ Cl^ry, ask for my dinner." 
A few moments later, two municipals entered the dining- 
room ; they read me an order which was as follows : ''Louis 
is not to have knife or fork at his meals; a knife is to be 
given to his valet de ehamhre to cut his bread and meat in 
presence of two commissioners, and the knife will then be 
removed." The two mimicipals told me to inform the king, 
I refused. 

On entering the dining-room the king saw the badtet in 

> Doubtlen that of liadame ^Usabeth.— Tb. 

196 MAT>AMK tUBABVra DE FBANCK [chap. uz. 

which was the queen's dinner. He asked why they had 
made his family wait an hoar; adding that the delay might 
have made them anzioua He sat down to table. ^ I have 
no knife," he said. The municipal Minier informed His 
Majesty of the order of the Commune. ^ Do they think me 
so cowardly as to take my own life ?** said the king. ^They 
impute to me crimes, but I am innocent and I can die with- 
out fear ; I would that my death might make the welfare of 
Frenchmen and avert from them the evils I foresee." A 
great silence fell The king cut his beef with a spoon, and 
broke his bread; he ate little, and his dinner lasted only a 
few minutes. 

I was in my room, given over to frightful grie^ when, 
about six in the evening, Garat returned to the Tower. I 
went to announce to the king the arrival of the minister of 
justice. Santene, who preceded him, approached His Ma- 
jesty and said in a low voice, with a smiling air, " Here is 
the Executive council" The minister, advancing, told the 
king that he had taken his letter to the Convention, which 
charged him to deliver the following answer : ^ Louis is at 
liberty to call for any minister of worship that he thinks 
proper; and to see his family freely and without witnesses; 
the nation, always grand and always just, will concern itself 
wiUi the &ite of his family ; the creditors of his house will 
be granted just indemnities ; as to the three days' respite, ihe 
National Convention passes to the order of the day.'' 

The king listened to the reading of this reply without 
making any observation ; he returned to his room, and said 
to me : ^ I thought, from Santerre's air, that the delay was 
granted." A young municipal, named Boston, seeing the 
king speak to me, came nearer. ^ You seem to feel what 
has happened to me," the king said to him; *^receive my 
thanks." The man, surprised, did not know what to answer. 


and I was myself amazed at the expressions of His Majesty^ 
for this municipal, not twenty-two years of age, with a sweet 
and interesting &ce, had said a few moments earlier: ^'I 
asked to come to the Temple that I might see the grimaces 
he will make to-morrow " (meaning the king). ** And I, too/' 
said Merceraut, the stone-cutter of whom I have already 
spoken. '* Everybody refused to come ; but I would not give 
up this day for a great deal of money." Such were the vile 
and ferocious men whom the Commune of Paris appointed 
to guard the king in his last moments. 

For four days the king had not seen his counsel ; those of 
the commissioners who had showed some feeling for his mis- 
fortunes, avoided coming near him; of all the subjects 
whose father he had been, of all the Frenchmen whom he 
had loaded with benefits, one single servant alone remained 
to him as confidant of his sorrows. 

After the reading of the answer of the Convention, the 
commissioners addressed the minister of justice and asked 
him how the king was to see his family. ^ In private," re- 
plied Grarat ; '* that is the intention of the Convention." The 
municipals then told him of the decree of the Commune 
ordering them not to lose sight of the king '^ day or night." 
It was agreed between the Commissioners and the minister 
that in order to combine these two opposing decrees, the king 
should receive his family in the dining-room where he could 
be seen through the glass partition, but that the door should 
be shut so that he could not be heard. 

The king here recalled the minister of justice to ask if he 
had notified M. de Firmont Garat replied that he had 
brought him in his carriage, that he was then in the council- 
room, and would come up immediately. His Majesty now, 
in the presence of Grarat, gave to a municipal, named Beau- 
drais, who was talking with the minister, the sum of 3000 

198 MADAME Elisabeth be France, [ohap. m. 

francs in gold, requesting him to retum it to M. de Males- 
herbes to whom it belonged. The municipal promised to do 
so ; but he took the money to the council-room, and it was 
never returned to M. de Malesherbes. M. de Firmont ap- 
peared ; the king took him into the tourelle and closed the 
door. Grarat having gone, no one remained in his Majesty's 
apartment but the four municipals. At eight o'clock the 
king came out of his cabinet and told the commissioners to 
take him to his family. They replied that that could not be 
done, but they would bring his family to him if he desired 
it. " Very well," said the king, '* but I can, at least, see them 
alone in my room." ** No," replied one of them, " we have 
arranged with the minister of justice that you shall see them 
in the dining-room." " You have heard the decree of the 
Convention," said His Majesty, ^ which permits me to see 
them without witnesses." " That is true," said the municipal, 
'* you will be in private, the door will be shut, but we shall 
have ow eyes upon you through the glass partition." ^ Bring 
down my family," said the king. 

During this interval. His Majesty went to the dining- 
room; I followed him. I drew the table to one side and 
placed the chairs at the farther end of the room to give more 
space. ''Bring some water and a glass," said the king. 
There was then on the table a bottle of iced water ; I brought 
only a glass and placed it beside the water-bottl& ^^ Bring 
water that is not iced," said the king. '' If the queen drank 
the other it might make her ilL Tell M. de Firmont," added 
Hl9 Majesty, ^ not to leave my cabinet ; I fear the sight of 
him would make my family too unhappy." 

The commissioner who was sent to fetch the royal family 
was absent a quarter of an hour ; during that time the king 
went back to his cabinet, returning several times to the en- 
trance-door, with signs of the deepest emotion. 


At half-past eight the door opened ; the queen appeared 
first, holding her son by the hand ; then Madame Boyale and 
Madame ]Eilisabeth ; they ran to the arms of the king. A 
gloomy silence reigned for several minutes, interrupted only 
by sobs. The queen made a movement to draw the king 
into his room. ^ No/' he said, " let us go into the dining- 
room, I can see you only there." They went there, and I 
closed the door, which was of glass, behind them. The king 
sat down, the queen on his left, Madame Elisabeth on his 
right, Madame Boyale nearly opposite to him, and the little 
prince between his knees. All were bending towards him 
and held him half embraced. This scene of sorrow lasted 
seven quarters of an hour, during which it was impossible to 
hear anything ; we could see only that after each sentence of 
the king the sobs of the princesses redoubled, lasting some 
minutes ; then the king would resume what he was saying. 
It was easy to judge from their motions that the king him- 
self was the first to tell them of his condemnation. 

At a quarter past ten the king rose first; they all followed 
him ; I opened the door ; the queen held the king by the 
right arm ; Their Majesties each gave a hand to the dauphin ; 
Madame Soyale on the left clasped the king's body; Ma- 
dame Elisabeth, on the same side but a little behind the rest, 
had caught the left arm of her brother. They made a few 
steps towards the entrance, uttering the most sorrowful 
moans. ^I assure you," said the king,'Hhat I will see you 
to-morrow at eight o'clock." ** You promise us ? " they all 
cried. " Yes, I promise it." ^ Why not at seven o'clock ? " 
said the queen. ** Well, then, yes, at seven o'clock," replied 
the king. ** Adieu — " He uttered that " adieu " in so ez- 
pessive a manner that the sobs redoubled. Madame Soyale 
fell fainting at the king's feet, which she clasped ; I raised 
her and helped Madame SUsabeth to hold her. The king. 

200 MAnAinc JbuSABBTH BE FBAKCK [ohjlp. nx. 

wiahing to put an end to thifl heart-rending '^scene, gave them 
all a most tender embrace^ and then had the strength to tear 
himself from their arms. ''Adieu — adieu," he said, and 
re-entered his chamber. 

The princesses went up to theirs. I wished to go too to 
support Madame Boyale ; the municipals stopped me on the 
second stair and forced me to go back. Though the two 
doors were shut, we continued to hear the sobs and moans of 
the princesses on the staircas& The king rejoined his con- 
fessor in the taurelle. 

Half an hour later he came out and I served the supper. 
The king ate little, but with appetite. 

After supper, His Majesty having returned to his cabinet 
in the tov/rdle, his confessor came out an instant later and 
asked the commissioners to take him to the council-room. 
This was for the purpose of obtaining the sacerdotal robes, 
and other things necessary to say mass on the following 
morning. M. de Firmont obtained with difficulty the grant- 
ing of this request It was to the church of the Capuchins 
in the Marais, near the hdtel de Soubise, which had lately 
been made a parish church, that they sent for the articles 
required for divine service. 

Betuming from the council-room, M. de Firmont went 
back to the king. They both re-entered the tourdlej where 
they remained until half an hour after midnight. Then I 
undressed the king, and as I was about to roll his hair, he 
said to me, *' It is not worth while." When I dosed the 
curtains after he was in bed, he said, '' Ch&ry, wake me at five 

He was hardly in bed before a deep sleep took possession 
of his senses; he slept until five o'clock without waking. 
M. de Firmont, whom His Majesty had urged to take a little 
rest, threw himself on my bed, and I passed the night on a 

17M] THB CAPnvirr or lotus xvl 201 

chair in the king's room, praying God to preserve both his 
strength and his couraga 

I heard five o'clock strike on the city clocks and I lit the 
fire. At the noise I made, the king awoke and said, opening 
his curtain," Is it five o'clock ? " '' Sire, it has stmck five 
on seveial of the city clocks, but not here." The fire being 
lighted I went to his bedside. ^ I have slept well," he said ; 
" I needed it, for yesterday tired me very much. Where is 
M. de Firmont ? " " On my bed." " And you, where did you 
sleep?" "In this chair." "I am sorry," said the king. 
" Ah Sire ! I exclaimed, " how can I think of myself at such 
a moment ? " He held out his hand to me and pressed mine 
with affection. 

I dressed the king and did his hair; while dressing, he 
took from his watch a seal, put it in the pocket of his waist- 
coat, and laid the watch upon the chimney-piece ; then, tak- 
ing from his finger a ring, which he looked at many times, 
he put it in the same pocket where the seal was. He 
changed his shirt, put on a white waistcoat which he had 
worn the night before, and I helped him on with his coat. 
He took from his pockets his portfolio, his eye-glass, his 
snuff-box, and some other articles ; he laid them with his 
purse on the chimney-piece ; all this in silence and before 
the municipals. His toilet completed, the king told me to 
inform M. de Firmont I went to call him ; he was already 
up, and he followed His Majesty into the tourdle. 

I then placed a bureau in the middle of the room and pre- 
pared it, like an altar, for the mass. At two o'clock in the 
moroing all the necessary articles had been brought I took 
into my own room tibe priesfs robe, and then, when every- 
thing was ready, I went to inform the king. He asked me 
if I could serve the mass. I answered yes, but that I did 
not know all the responses by heart He had a book in his 

202 MADAWnr, tUSABEtfi BE FRANCS. [chjlp. m. 

hand wiiidi he opeaed, found the place of the masB, and gave 
it to me, taking another book for himsell 

During thia time the priest lobed himsell I had placed 
an ann-chair before the altar and a large cnshion on <he floor 
for EQs Majesty. The king made me take away the cushion, 
and went himself into his cabiuet to fetch another, smaller 
and coyered with horsehair, which he used daily to say his 
prayers. As soon as the priest entered, the municipals re- 
tired into the antechamber, and I closed one half of the 

Mass hegBoi at six o'dodc. During that august ceremony 
a great silence leigned. The kiog, always on his knees, 
listened to the mass with deep absorption, in a most noble 
attitude. Bis Majesty took the communion. After massy 
he went into hia cabinet, and the priest into my room to 
remove his sacerdotal garments. 

I seized that moment to enter the king's cabinet He took 
me by both hands and said in a touching voice : ^ Ol^iy, I 
am satisfied wiOi your services." ^Ah, Sire ! " I cried, throw- 
ing myself at his feet ^ Why can I not die to satisfy your 
murderers and save a life so precious to good Frenchmen ! 
Hope, Sire, — they dare not strike you." ^ Death does not 
alarm me," he replied. ^ I am quite prepared ; but you," he 
continued, 'Mo not expose yourself; I shall aek that you be 
kept near my son ; give him all your care in this dreadful 
place ; remind him, tell him often, how I have grieved for 
the misfortunes he must bear : some day he may be able to 
reward your zeaL" '^ Ah ! my master, my king, if the most 
absolute devotion, if my zeal and my care have been agree- 
able to you, the only reward I ask is to receive your bless- 
ing — do not refuse it to the last Frenchman who remains 
beside you." 

I was already at his feet, holding one of his hands ; in 

1798] THE CAPnVlTT OF LOmS XVL 203 

that poeition he granted my prajer and gare me his Mess- 
ing ; then he raised me, and pressing me to his bosom said : 
**Qive it also to all ^o aie attached to me ; tell Tmgy I 
am content with him. Now, go back/' he added; ^giye no 
cause for complaint against you.'' Then, calling me badk and 
taking a paper from the table, he said, ^ See, here is a letter 
Potion wrote me at the time of yoxur entrance to the Templ& 
It may be useful to you for remaining here." I caugjht his 
hand again and kissed it, and went out ^ Adieu," he said to 
me again, '^ Adieu." 

I returned to my chamber, where I found M. de Fiimont 
prayiDg on his knees beside my bed. ^ What a prince I " he 
said to me as he rose ; '' with what resignation, with what 
courage he looks at death ! he was as tranquil as if he were 
hearing mass in his palace in the midst of his Court." '' I 
have just received the most affecting farewell," I said to 
him. ** He has deigned to promise me that he will ask to 
have me remain in the Tower to wait on his son. Monsieur, 
I beg of you to remind him, for I shall not have .the happi- 
ness to speak to him in private again." ^ Be at ease al>out 
that," replied M. de Firmont as he turned to rejoin His 

At seven o'clock the king came out of his calnnet and 
called me ; he took me into the embrasure of the window and 
said : ^ You will give this seal to my son — and this ring to 
the queen ; tell her that I part from it with pain and only 
at the last moment. This little packet incloses the hair of 
all my &mily; you will give her that also. Say to the 
queen, to my dear children, to my sister, that although I 
promised to see them this morning, I wish to spare them the 
pain of so cruel a separation. — How much it costs me to go 
without receiving their last embraces!" He wiped away 
a few tears ; then he added, with a most sorrowful accent, 

204 MADAME tuaABETH DE FRANCE. [orap. m. 

" I charge you to take them mj fiirewelL" He immediately 
re-entered his cabinet 

The municipals who were dose at hand had heard His 
Majesty^ and had seen him give me the different articles 
which I still held in my hands. They told me to give them 
up to them ; but one of their number proposed to leave them 
in my hands for a decision of the council about them^ and 
this advice prevailed.^ 

A quarter of an hour later the king came out of his 
cabinet. '^ Ask»^ he said to me^'' if I can have scissors;" and 
he went in again. I made the request of the commit 
sioners. '* Do you know what he wants to do with them ? " 
I said I did not ^ You must let us know.** I knocked at the 
door of the cabinet The king came out A municipal who 
followed me said to him: ''You have asked for scissors, but 
before we take your request to the council we must know 
what you wish to do with theuL" His Majesty replied^ '' I 
wish Cl^ry to cut my hair." The municipals retired; one of 
them went down to the council-chamber, where, after half 
an hour's deliberation, they refused the scissors. The muni- 
cipals returned and announced that decision to the king. '^ I 
should not have touched the scissors," said His Majesty ; ** I 
should have requested Cl^ry to cut my hair in your presence ; 
inquire again, monsieur; I beg you to take charge of my 
request." The municipal returned to the council, which 
persisted in its refusal 

It was then that I was told to be ready to accompany the 
king and undress him on the scaffold. At this announce- 
ment I was seized with terror ; but collecting all my strength 
I was preparing to render this last duty to my master, to whom 
this service done by the executioner would be repugnant, 
when another municipal came to tell me that I was 

1 See Appendix Y. 


not to go; adding^ ^The executioner is good enough for 

Paris was under arms from five o'clock in the morning ; 
nothing was heard outside but the beating of the gSn£ral$, 
the rattle of arms^ the tramp of hoises^ the movement of 
cannon, which they placed and displaced incessantly. All 
this echoed through the Tower. 

At nine o'clock the noise increased, the gates opened with 
a crash ; Santerre, accompanied by seven or eight municipals, 
entered at the head of ten gendarmes, whom he ranged in 
two lines. At this disturbance the king came out of his 
cabinet '^ Have you come to fetch me ? " he said to Santerre 
^ Yes.'* ** I ask you for one minute." The king entered his 
cabinet and came out again immediately, his confessor with 
him. He held his will in his hand, and, addressing a mu- 
nicipal, Jacques Bouz by name, a priest who had taken the 
oath, who was the man nearest to him, he said : ^' I beg you 
to give this paper to the queen, to my wife.'' ^ It is not my 
business," replied the priest, refusing to take the document. 
^ I am here to conduct you to the scaffold." His Majesty 
then addressed Gobau, another municipal ^ Give this paper, 
I beg you, to my wifa You can read it ; it contains dispo- 
sitions which I desire that the Commune should know." 
Gk>bau took the document. 

I was behind the king, near the chimney ; he turned to 
me and I offered him his overcoat. ^ I have no need of it," 
he said, ** give me only my hat." I gave it to him. His 
hand touched imne, which he pressed for the last time. 
^ Messieurs," he said, addressing the municipals, ^ I desire 
that d^ry should remaui near my son, who is accustomed to 
his care ; I hope that the Commune will accede to my re- 
quest" Then, looking at Santerre, he said, ** Let us go." 

Those were the last words that he said in his apartment 

206 MADAME Elisabeth de fbabtge. [chap. m. 

At the top of the staircase he met Mathey, porter of the 
Tower^ and said to him : ^ I was a little hasty to you day 
before yesterday ; do not bear me iU-wilL" Mathey made 
no answer; he even affected to torn away when the king 
spoke to him. 

I remained alone in the room, my heart wrung with sorrow, 
and almost without sensation. The drums and the trumpets 
announced that His Majesty had left the Tower. An hour 
later salvos of artUlery and cries of Vtve la nation ! Vive la 
ripwbUque f were heard. The best of kings was no mcse 1 





Ov Madams Tb^bjCsb de Fbanos. 

Belating : L Eyenta from October 5, 1780, to AugnBt 10, 1792. IL Eyenta 
taking place in the Tower of the Temple from Aiigu8t» 1792, to the 
Death of the Danphin, Jane 9, 1795. 

[The latter part of this Narrative^ was the part first 
written by Marie-Th^r^se, Madame Boyale de France, only 
surviving child of Louis XVL and Marie-Antoinette. She 
wrote it in the Temple after the death of her brother in 
1795, when her own captivity became less rigorous, and 
she was allowed the use of pencil and paper. 

The first part of the Narrative, that which relates the 
various events taking place from October 5, 1789, to August 
10, 1792, was written by her in 1799, during her exile and 
soon after her marriage to her cousin, the Due d'Angou- 
I6me, son of the Comte d'Artois, subsequently Charles X. 
This manuscript was corrected and copied, in his own 
handwriting, by her uncle, Morisieur, Comte de Provence, 
subsequently Louis XYIIL, with whom she lived during 
his two exiles and his two Bestorations till his deatL This 
copy, now in possession of the family of Francois Hu^', a 
devoted attendant of the royal family of France, to whom 
the Duchesse d'AngoulSme gave it, was first published by 
M. de Saint-Amand (Firmin Didot, Paris, no date). From 
that edition this translation is made. The additions by 
Louis XVnL are placed in the text between brackets ; his 
omissions, which are chiefly of words and brief sentences, 

1 Beginning on page 243.~-Tb. 


made to correct his niece's French style, are, necessarily, 
not shown in the translation.] 

Mrst Uprisirtg of the Ibpulaee an the 5th and 6th of October 
1789. BemovcU of my Family to the Capital. 

It was on the 5th of October, 1789, of a Monday, that the 
first disturbances which, in the end, convulsed all France, 
broke forth. In the morning of that too memorable day 
every one was still tranquil at Versailles. My father had 
gone to himt at Meudon, a royal chftteau midway to Paris ; 
my mother had gone alone to her garden at Trianon; my 
uncle Monsieur, with Madame, remained at Versailles ; my 
Aunt Elisabeth had ridden out on horseback to dine at 
her garden on the road to Paris; my brother and I had 
also gone out in the morning and returned towards half- 
past one to dine with my mother. Hardly had my Aimt 
Elisabeth reached Montreuil and begun her dinner when 
they came to tell her that all the women and all the 
rabble of Paris were coming, armed, to Versailles. A 
few moments later the news was confirmed; they were 
already very near Versailles, where my father had not yet 
returned. My aunt went back at once to Versailles accom- 
panied by her two ladies-in-waiting, (roing to my uncle's 
apartment, she asked if he knew what was happening ; he 
said he had heard talk of all Paris coming out to Versailles 
armed, but he did not believe it; my aunt assured him 
that the thing was true, and together they went to my 

We had just finished dinner when it was announced 
that Monsieur and Mme. Elisabeth were there and wished 
to speak to the queen. My mother was surprised, because 


rj/}\\ • / "/■ tie I\'OvI((Ct uu tie ruh anJ Cfl. of ■ 

li n-.-; ... ih.' ;ii (>f Of/ti !-tr, 17j>'.», of a !Muiiii.'iv, il 
fv\\. i'- ■ . . ••> \>Iibh, ii' llw I'li'l, •■un\nilse«l ull \ 
t: ' lij t.h'^ UH»r:/ii;_c t'* ii/it loo nit'morat'. 

f^ . .-M J-tiil truiiqiiil ul \ u'suilk":. My lail"-' 

I- ••: I at Mt'!i«l"ii, a r'N.iJ i!..i.oau miawav to * 

:> ■• I id «^'»ne al':jie i'« ^"»" ^' inlt i: at Triaxif^' 

I, . mVv -,^1111 M(f''.',f\ iv»;iiain«.l ci: Vcr^aili* - 

.-\ .. : i.'.i^ai.e'h had i;«*'^"m ^hm »)n btiM^'M-.- k V di: 
L-. r ^iniiMi Oil tl't' rnpd t-» Tans; ii.y bioiluT and ^ 
a!-> g'jne <';l. in llu- T;i'«niiii<^ ai d n'tiiriu-d tt»Nvani- 
^.^t (die to diiK'. vv-fji ihv II! 'lih^:. ILiidlv bad niv . 
'^ li^a.'th i»ja"li''d Mviiitruiil and r'-.';^ui: her dinner v 
.■■ *■ .Jiiie lu i'W htT tlv.t ull Ih^/ women and a*-. 
X. ''■ of P'^. - wvve L'ojuin;.:, ai nu-d, iv> \\M\-4ailh. 

\* • ^Hur Vi.'i>alll-?, ^v"ht'r^» i.i\ fathtM- had n> • 

*'\ aunt \\ t»:it i'ark yi nnce t<» \ <ts;ii11'j- a« 

•r tw-y la<]ie^-in -waiting. (i'»'nt: to inv " 

Il ', a->ked if he kni^w wii-it was hap]>cni!i 

• !• t'd Liik '>f all Pans coiiiiii;:; out to Ver- 

-. n'»t helH'V(j II ; my aunt ai-'^und 

.-» tiih, and Lot;»'Lhor they went t" 

^.-r \.Oil dinner wln^n il was anii 
: M.i.'-. KlisaheM' W'*re there and w 
l;» »-.'r}. My n:«>'iu'r wa^^ ^u^J•n^e^l, he 


it was not her usual hour for seeing them. She passed into 
another room [to speak with them], and returned almost 
immediately, much agitated by what she had heard and 
still more uneasy about my father; she was not aware 
that the moment the news of the insurrection reached 
Versailles two gentlemen, named Puymontbrun and La 
Devize, had hastened on horseback to warn my father. 
He returned at five o'clock, and by six the whole troop of 
rioters were in Versailles; the iron gates of the chftteau 
were dosed and defended by the Gardes du Corps. 

M. de la Fayette was at the head of this Parisian army. 
[None but the rabble came first; M. de la Fayette did 
not come, with troops little disciplined, until eleven at 
night.] They entered the hall of the Assembly, where 
they declaimed much against the king and the govern- 
ment. The president of the Assembly, M. Mounier, came 
several times to the ch&teau to speak to my father. The 
Due d'Orldans was with la Fayette [they were not to- 
gether], and it was said they intended to make him king. 
However that may be, the object of these rioters was not 
well known to themselves; none but the leaders were in- 
formed of their true purpose. Their [principal] purpose 
was to murder my mother, on whom the Due d'Orl^ans 
wished to avenge himself for affronts he said she had put 
upon him ; also to massacre the Gardes du Corps, the only 
ones who remained faithful to their king [they were then 
commanded by the Due de Quiche]. 

Towards midnight the crowd retired, seeming to want 
rest ; many of the women lay down on the benches of the 
National Assembly. M. de la Fayette himself went to bed, 
saying that everything was tranquil for the night ; so that 
my father and mother, seeing that all was really quiet, re- 
tired to their rooms, and so did the rest of the family. 

212 MADAME Elisabeth de fbance. [1799 

My mother knew that their chief object was to Vill her ; 
nevertheless, in spite of that, she made no sign, but retired 
to her room with all possible coolness and courage [after 
ordering all who had gathered there to retire also]. She 
went to bed, directing Mme. de Tourzel to take her son 
instantly to the king if she heard any noise during the 
night; she ordered all her servants to go to bed. 

The rest of the night was quiet till five in the morning ; 
but then the iron gates of the chftteau were forced and the 
vagabonds, led, it was said, by the Due d'Orl&ns himself, 
rushed straight to my mother's apartment The Swiss Guard 
stationed at the foot of the staircase, which could have dis- 
puted their passage, gave way, so that the villains, without 
any hindrance, entered the haU of the Oardes du Corps 
wounding and killing those who tried to oppose their pas- 
sage. Two of these guards, named Miomandre de Sainte- 
Marie and Durepaire, though grievously wounded, dragged 
themselves to my mother's door, crying out to her to fly and 
bolt the doors behind her. Their zeal was cruelly rewarded ; 
the wretches flung themselves upon them and left them 
bathed in their blood, for dead. Meantime, my mother's 
women, wakened by the shouts of the insurgents and the 
Oardes du Corps, rushed to the door and bolted it My 
mother sprang from her bed and, half-dressed, ran to my 
father'9 apartment ; but the door of it was locked within, and 
those who were there, hearing the noise, would not open it, 
thinking it was the rioters trying to enter. Fortunately, 
a man on duty named Turgy (the same who afterwards 
served us in the Temple as waiter), having recognized my 
mother's voice, opened the door to her immediately. 

At the same moment the wretches forced the door of my 
mother's room; so that one instant later she would have 
been taken without means of escape. As soon as she 


entered my Other's rooms she looked for him, but coidd not 
find him; having heard she was in danger he had rushed 
to her apartment, but by another way. Fortunately, he met 
my brother, brought to him by Mme. de Tourzel, who urged 
him to return to his own rooms, where he found my mother 
awaiting him in mortal anxiety. Beassured about my father 
and brother, the queen came in search of me ; I was already 
awakened by the noise in her rooms and in the garden 
under my windows ; my mother told me to rise, and then 
took me with her to my father's apartment 

My great-aunts Adflalde and Yictoire arrived soon after. 
We were very uneasy about Monsieur, Madame, and my 
Aimt Elisabeth, of whom nothing had been heard. My 
father sent gentlemen to know where they were. They were 
f oimd sleeping peacefully ; the brigands not having gone to 
their side of the chftteau, neither they nor their servants 
knew what was happening. They all came at once to my 
father. My Aunt Elisabeth was so troubled by the danger 
that the king and queen had run that she crossed the rooms 
inundated with the blood of the Oardes du Corps without 
even perceiving it . . . 

The courtyard of the chateau presented a horrible sight 
A crowd of women, almost naked, and men armed with 
pikes threatened our windows with dreadful cries. M. de 
la Fayette and the Due d'Orl^ns were at one of the 
windows, pretending to be in despair at the horrors which 
were being committed during that morning. I do not 
know who advised my mother to show herself on the 
balcony, but she went out upon it with my brother. The 
mob demanded that her son should be sent in; having 
taken him into the room my mother returned alone to the 
balcony [expecting to perish, but happily], this great courage 
awed the whole crowd of people, who confined themselves 

214 MAPAME Elisabeth de francb. \1799 

to loading her with insults withoat daring to attack her 

M. de la Fajette, on his side^ never ceased to harangae 
the rioters^ but his words had no effect and the tumult 
still continued. He told them that my &ther consented to 
return with them to Paris; he said he could assure them 
of this as my father had given him his word. This promise 
calmed them a little^ and while the Court carriages were 
being made ready to start, all the family returned to their 
rooms to make their toilet, for up to this time we stiU wore 
our night-<3aps. 

All being arranged for the departure, there was fresh 
embarrassment about how to leave the chftteau, because they 
wished to prevent my father from crossing the great guard- 
rooms which were inundated with blood. We therefore 
went down by a small staircase, crossed the Ck)ur des Cerfs 
and got into a carriage for six persons; on the back seat 
were my father, mother and brother; on the front seat 
Madame, my Aunt Elisabeth and I, in the middle my uncle 
Monsieur and Mme. de TourzeL My great-aunts, Adelaide 
and Yictoire started for their countiy-seat, BeUevue, at the 
same time. 

The crowd was so great it was long before we could ad- 
vance. In front of the cortege were carried the heads of 
the two Gardes du Corps who had been killed. Close to the 
carriage was M. de la Fayette on horseback surrounded by 
troops of the Flanders regiment on foot, and of the grena- 
diers of the French guard. [In the ranks of the latter and 
mingling with them, though with very different sentiments, 
were several of the Gardes du Corps, who gave to their king 
in these cruel moments the last mark of devotion which it 
was ever possible for their regiment to give.] 

We started at one in the afternoon. Though the journey 


from Yersailles to Paris is usually done in two short hours 
we did not reach the barrier till six in the evening. Along 
the whole way the brigands never ceased firing their muskets, 
and it was useless for M. de la Fayette to oppose them; 
they shouted : Vive la nation ! A. has les Calotins ! A las 
Us PrUres ! M. Bailly, Mayor of Paris, in conformity with 
an ancient custom [so insolent and derisory at this moment], 
presented my father with the keys of the city on a gold 
plate, and made him a long speech in which he spoke of 
the pleasure the good city of Paris would have in possessing 
the king, whom he urgently requested to go at once to the 
Hdtel de Yille. My &ther was unwilling to consent, say- 
ing it would take too long and fatigue his children too 
much. Nevertheless, M. Bailly insisted, and M. de la 
Fayette being of the same opinion, — because he thought it 
better to go the same day rather than wait for the morrow 
when they would be forced to go, — my father decided to 
do so. 

Having entered Paris, the shouts, the clamour, the insults 
increased with the mob of the populace ; it took us two hours 
to reach the Hdtel de Yille. My father had ordered all per- 
sons in his suite who were in the other carriages to go 
straight to the Tuileries ; he therefore went alone with his 
family to the Hdtel de Yille, where the municipality and 
M. Bailly received him, still civiUy, and made him another 
speech on their joy at seeing that he wished to establish 
himself in Paris. My father answered in a few words, from 
which they could see that he felt his position much. They 
asked him to rest there a moment, as he had now been eight 
hours in the carriage. The People, who filled the square, 
shouted loudly and demanded to see the king ; he placed 
himself therefore at a window of the Hdtel de YiUe, and as 
it was now dark they brought torches in order to recognize 

216 ifAT^AiTR ibJSABBTH D£ FSAHCB. [1790 

him. Then we again got into the carriage and reached the 
Tuileries at ten o'clock. 

Thus passed that fatal day, the opening epoch of the im- 
prisonment of the royal family and the b^inning of the 
outrages and cruelties it was to bear in the end. The rest of 
this year, and the year of 1790 were passed in a continual 
struggle between the Boyal Power and that arrogated to 
itself by the Assembly, the latter always gaining the upper 
hand, although no very remarkable events happened during 
that time relating to the personal situation of my &mily. 

Flight of my Father; Stoppage at Varennes ; his Betwnt 

to Paris. 

On the 20th of June, 1790, my father and mother seemed 
to me greatly agitated during the whole day and much oc- 
cupied, without my knowing the reason. After dinner they 
sent us, my brother and me, into another room, and shut 
themselves into their own, alone with my aimt. I knew 
later that this was the moment when they told the latter of 
their plan for escaping by flight from the durance under 
which they were living. At five o'clock my mother went to 
walk with my brother and me ; during our walk my mother 
took me aside from her suite, and told me not to be uneasy 
at anything that I might see ; that we might be separated, 
but not for long ; I imderstood nothing of this confidence. 
Thereupon she kissed me and said that if the ladies of the 
suite questioned me as to this conversation I was to say that 
she had scolded me and forgiven me. We returned about 
seven o'clock and I went to my room very sad, not knowing 
what to think of what my mother had said to me. I passed 
the rest of the evening alone; my mother had induced 


Mma de Mackau* mj subgovemess, to go and spend a few 
days in a convent of which she was very fond, and had also 
sent into the country a young girl who was usually with me ; 
besides which she ordered me to send away all my servants 
except one woman. 

I was hardly in bed before my mother came in ; she told 
me we were to leave at once^ and gave her ordexs for the ar- 
rangements ; she said to Mme. Brunyer, my waiting-woman, 
that she wished her to follow us^ but that^ having a husband, 
she was free to remain. That [good] woman replied im- 
mediately that they did right to go, and as for her she should 
not hesitate to leave her husband and follow us everywhere. 
My mother was touched by that mark of attachment She 
then went down to bid good-night to Monsieur and Madame^ 
who had supped with her as usual Monsieur was already 
informed of the departure ; on retumiqg to his own apart- 
ment he went to bed, and then, having sent away all his 
people, he rose [without noise and, disguising himself as an 
English merchant] he started with one of his gentlemen, 
M. d'Avaray, who, by his intelligence and devotion enabled 
liiTTn to escape [or surmount] all the dangers of the 

As for Madame, she was wholly ignorant of the intended 
joum^, and it was not until after she was in bed that one 
of her women came and told her she was ordered by the 
king and Monsieur to take her without delay out of the 
kingdom. She started at once, and met Monsieur at the first 
post where they relayed, without appearing to know each 
other, and so arrived safely at Brussels. 

My mother had already been to wake my brother, whom 
Mme. de Tourzel took down to her eniresoL Having gone 
there with him we there found awaiting us one of the Gardes 
du Corps who was to be our guide. My mother came several 


times to cast an eye upon us while my brother was being 
dressed as a little girl ; he was heavy with sleep, and did not 
know what was happening. At half-past ten we were ready ; 
my mother took us herseU to the carriage in the middle of 
the courtyard and put us into it, my brother and me and 
Mme. de TourzeL M. de Fersen, a Swedish noble in the 
service of France, served us as coachman. To throw people 
off the scent we made several turns in Paris and returned to 
the little Carrousel near the Tuileries to wait for my father 
and mother. My brother was lying at the bottom of the 
carriage imder Mme. de Tourzd's gown. 

We saw M. de la Fayette pass dose by us, going to the 
king's coucher. We waited there a full hour in the greatest 
impatience and uneasiness at my parents ' long delay. Dur- 
ing the journey Mme. de Tourzel was to pass for a Baronne 
de Korff; my mother as Mme. Bonnet, go vemess of the lady's 
children; my father, under the name of Durand, as valet de 
cJuimbre ; my aunt, named Bosalie, as the lady's companion, 
and my brother and I for the two daughters of Mme. de Korff, 
named Am^lie and Agla^. The two waitiug-women followed 
us in a caliche. The three Oardes du Corps who accompa- 
nied us passed for servants ; one was on horseback, one on the 
carriage, and the third went before us as courier. 

After waiting one hour I saw a woman approach and walk 
round our carriage ; it made me fear we were discovered, 
but I was soon reassured by seeing the coachman open the 
carriage door to admit my aunt ; she had escaped alone with 
one other person. On entering the carriage she trod upon 
my brother, who was hidden at the bottom of it ; he had the 
the courage not to utter a cry. She assured us that all was 
quiet at Court, and that my father and mother would soon 
come. In fact, the king came almost immediately, and then 
my mother with a member of the Oardes du Corps, who waa 


to follow US. We then started. At fiist nothing happened 
until we reached the barrier, where we were to find the post- 
carriage which was there to take us on. M. de Fersen did 
not know precisely where it would be ; we were obliged to 
wait a rather long time and my father got out, which made 
us uneasy. At last M. de Fersen came with the other car- 
riage, into which we got ; that done, he bade my father good- 
night, moimted his horse, and disappeared.^ 

Nothing remarkable happened to us during the next morn- 
ing. At Etoges we were on the point of being recognized, 
and at Ghftlons-sur-Mame, which we passed through at four 
in the afternoon, we were so completely. The inhabitants 
seemed well-intentioned; a great number of them were 
charmed to see their king and offered wishes for the success 
of his flight. At the post after Ghftlons, where we ought to 
have found troops on horseback to convoy the carriage to 
Montm^y, we found none ; and we waited there, expecting 
them, till eight o'clock in the evening ; then, going on, we 
reached Clermont, where we saw troops, but the rioters of 
the village would not allow them to mount their horses. 
One of their officers recogmziDg the king, approached the 
carriage and told him in a low voice that he was betrayed. 
We continued our way in agitation and anxiety, which, how- 

1 Footnote to the above, written by Louis XVm. « I think that the 
last two words should be erased and the f oUowing substituted : * and re- 
turned to Paris, where, having assured himself that aU was quiet, he took 
the road to the Low Countries, arriring there without accident' AU that 
is true, and for a thousand reasons of which my niece is ignorant, and of 
which I hope she wiU always remain ignorant, it is proper that she should 
show interest in a man who on that day showed so much derotion." 

As a matter of fact Count Fersen drove the party to Bondy, one hour 
and a half beyond the barrier, where he left them at the king's request ; 
the royal family continuing along the post-road, and Count Fersen taking, 
on horseback, tiie cross-roads to Bourget and thence to Mons. See ** Diary 
and Correspondence of Count Azel Fersen" in the present Historical 
Series.— Tb. 

220 MADAME Elisabeth de fbanck [1790 

oyer, did not prevesnt us from sleeping; but having been 
awakened by a violent jolt^ they came and told us they were 
ignorant of what had become of the courier who preceded 
us. It can be imagined in what fear we were; wesupposed 
he had been recognized and captured. 

We arrived at the entrance to the village of Yarennes, a 
very small place where there were scarcely a hundred houses 
and no post-house; so that travellers arriving there were 
obliged to get their horses from elsewhere. Those intended 
for us were really there, but at the chftteau on the other side 
of the river, and none of our people knew it ; besides which^ 
our postilions protested that their horses were tired and 
could go no farther. Our courier then appeared, and with 
him a man whom he believed to be in our secret, but who 
was really, as we had reason to believe, a spy of M. de la 
Fayette. He came to the carriage in a nightrcap and dress- 
ing-gown, put himself almost into it, and said he knew a 
secret but could not tell it Mme. de Tourzel having asked 
him if he knew Mme. de Korff, he said no; except those 
words, said while he looked fixedly at my father, it was im- 
possible to get anything from hinL 

They succeeded at last in persuading the postilions that 
the horses were at the chftteau and that they must take us 
there; they therefore drove on; but very slowly. As we 
entered the village we were shocked by the dreadful cries 
around the carriage : " Stop I stop 1 " Then the horses' heads 
were seized and, in a moment, the carriage was surrounded 
by a number of armed men with torches; it was then eleven 
o'clock at night They asked us who we were ; we said : 
Mme. de Eorff, and her family. They put their torches close 
to my father's face, and told us to get out ; we refused, saying 
we were simple travellers and ought to be allowed to pass ; 
they repeated loudly that we must get out or they would kiU 


US ally and we saw their guns pointed at the carriage. We 
were therefore forced to get out As we passed along the 
street we saw six dragoons on horseback ; unfortunately there 
was no officer with them^ for six determined men could have 
awed those people and saved the king. We were taken to 
the house of a man named Sauce, mayor of Yarennes imd a 
dealer in candles. 

While the tocsin sounded and the people uttered cries, my 
father kept himself in the birthest comer of the room ; but 
unfortunately his portrait was there, and the people gazed at 
him and the picture alternately. My mother and Mma de 
Tourzel complained loudly of the injustice of our stoppage, 
saying that she was travelling quietly with her family under 
a government passport, and that the king was not with us. 
The crowd increased, but in spite of the dreadful noise, our 
three Gardes du Corps went to sleep. We were all packed 
together in a very small room, and many of the villagers were 
there with us. They sent for the judge, to examine my father 
and decide if he was the king. Having done so, he said 
nothing. My aunt asking impatiently if he believed it was 
my father, he still said nothing, but raised his eyes to heaven. 

Meantime M. de Choiseul and (xpguelat, officers appointed 
to bring troops to meet us, arrived, but without soldiers ; 
they said they could not bring them because the bridge was 
blocked by a cart.^ 

1 This, of coime, is the narratiye of a young girl, giren, no doubt, with 
her natural conscientiousness. It ought to be compared with the Due de 
Choiseurs own account, which seems to hare satisfied Count Fersen, the 
man whose plan was ruined. See "Biaiy and Corr. of Count Axel 
Fersen," pp. 271-277. 

The failure of the escape was due to four causes : (1) the carelessness 
of joung Bouilltf ; (2) his father, the Marquis de BonilM's error in waiting 
on the frontier ; (3) the delay of four or flye hours after learing Ch&lont, 
for no real reason ; (4) the king's want of character ; it is plain that had 
he taken the situation by the horns and commanded it, he could easily 
have sayed himself and family. — Tb. 


At lasty eveiy one dedaring himself convinced that my 
father was the king, he, seeing that he had no means of 
escape, took the course of disclosing himself; and having 
said he was the king, all present threw themselves at his 
feet and kissed his hands ; among others, a major, named 
BoUin, who had insidted my &ther before he recognized him, 
now fell at his feet and protested aU. that a foithful subject 
could think or feeL He then rose as if furious, and retired. 
The whole family of the house also surrounded my &ther, 
and the tocsin still sounded. But in spite of these signs of 
devotion, they said he must not pass, for it was dreadful in 
liim to abandon his people, and that he ought to return to 

Things were thus when, at three in the morning, two 
agents of M. de la Fayette, sent in pursuit of my father, 
MM. Baillon and Bomeuf , arrived, and they insisted vigorously 
on his return to Paris. M. Baillon let my father know that 
he came from the city of Paris to b^ him to return, saying 
that they were in despair at his having quitted it as he had 
done, and that he ought necessarily to return. 

Nevertheless, we tried on our side to delay as long as pos- 
sible, to gain time, and wait to see if help would not arrive. 
On the other hand, those who had stopped us pressed us ex- 
tremely to start, being in the greatest fear that in so small 
a place as Yarennes and so near the frontier, the king might 
be carried off, which could very easily have happened if any 
one had been there who had any head. 

On the other side of the river the son of M. de Bouill^ 
was waiting, but as he had been three consecutive nights 
without sleep, fatigue overcame him, and he did not wake 
till the next morning, to hear of the stoppage of the 
king and his return to Paris. The other officers, who were 
on this side of the river, MM. de Damas and de Choiseul, 


got lost in the woods, havlDg taken too long a road; their 
horses were exhausted, and they did not arrive until long 
after we were stopped ; so that seeing the a£fair had failed, 
they were in despair and did not have the patience [the 
thought] or perhaps the means to go in search of the Mar- 
quis de Bouill^, who was waiting for us two posts beyond 
Yarennes. At last, at six in the morning, seeing there was 
no remedy or help to be looked for, we were absolutely forced 
to take the road back to Paria 

During all this catastrophe we never saw the famous 
Drouet, who made so much talk about the part he was said 
to have played; it is true that, on leaving Clermont, we saw 
a man on horseback, who passed our carriage, and it may 
have been he. As for the other, named Guillaume, we saw 
him, but not until after my father had made himself known ; 
and that man said he had not recognized him, but only my 
aunt, whom he saw at the Federation. 

We therefore got into the carriage, but not without danger ; 
they did not wish our three Oardes du Corps to accompany 
us, and it was with great difficulty that they at last permitted 
them to sit on the box of the carriage ; the other officers 
were more exposed, and were afterwards imprisoned and taken 
to Orleans. . . . Arriving at Sainte-Menehould at half-past 
three o'clock, we were allowed to leave the carriage for the 
first time since six in the morning. They took us to the 
house of the mayor, named Farcy. This man had formerly 
served at Govat, but was much dissatisfied with abuses he 
declared he had seen there. His wife came repeatedly to 
my &ther, saying, ** But why did you wish to leave us ? " In 
vain did they tell her, as they did to others, that my father 
did not mean to leave them, but only to go to MontmMy, 
which was really his project ; but the people would listen to 
nothing and could not be pacified. 

224 MADAMB Elisabeth de fbakce.. 


While we were at dinner a man named Bodand arrived, 
deputy of the CJommune of Paris, to beg my father in the 
name of that city, toretum to it as soon as possible; my 
father, being no longer master of doing otherwise, could only 
let himself be led. As soon as we had dined, we returned 
to the carriage, and an hour later met a gentleman of the 
neighbourhood named Dampierre, who, in despair at the king's 
being stopped, came to see him, but did not reach our car- 
riage, only that of the waiting-women. The peasants knew 
him to be what they called an aristocrat, and showed them- 
selves very ill-disposed towards him. Our women begged 
him to go away, but hardly had he spurred his horse before 
the people who surrounded the carriages fired at him; he was 
flung to the ground, and a man on horseback rode over him 
and struck him several blows with a sabre ; others did the 
same, and soon killed him. The scene, which took place 
close to our carriage and under our eyes, was horrible for us ; 
but more dreadful still was the fury of these wretches, who, 
not content with having killed him, wanted to drag his hoiy 
to our carriage and show it to my father. He objected with 
all his strength ; the postilions, however, would not advance I 
but at last one man, more humane than the others, went to 
the postilions pistol in hand, threatening to shoot them if 
they did not go on ; so at last they started. In spite of that, 
these cannibals came on triumphantly, round* the carriage, 
holding up the hat, coat, and clothing of the unfortunate 
Dampierre; and, paying no attention to my father's en- 
treaties, they carried these horrible trophies beside us along 
the road. It was thus that we passed the rest of that day 
in the midst of insults and perils. 

At last, at eleven at night we reached Chftlons. Tbete we 
heard of the arrest of M. de Briges, the king's equerry, idio, 
hearing of my father's departure from Paris, had left his regi- 

1790] NABRATIVE OF mat> amtc rOYALE. 225 

ment to join him. He was met oa the way by M. Baillon, 
M. de la Fayette's emissaiy, who^ seeing that he had no 
posthorses, took him with him, brought h^rn to Ghftlons, and 
there, with the cruellest treachery, denounced h\ir\j and had 
him arrested. Such was the reward of his love and attach- 
ment to his king. Hearing of our arrival at Ch&lons, M. de 
Briges asked to see my father, but in vain, and he had the 
pain of listening to the insults heaped upon him. We were 
taken to the Maison-Eoyale at Chftlons, where we were well- 
lodged and well-treated. The inhabitants of the town 
seemed well-disposed, especially the mayor, M. Bose, and 
the military commander M. Beubel, a former Garde du Corps. 
My mother even found in her room a man who proposed to 
her to escape, which she refused, fearing treachery and seeii^ 
moreover countless difficulties. 

We were all so fatigued at having passed two nights in up- 
roar and terror that we slept soundly. The next day, we 
resumed the clothes belonging to our rank, and my brother 
was again dressed as a boy. Throughout that morning many 
persons came to see my father, and did so from interest and 
in no way with insult, as had been shown elsewhere^ ]^y 
brother, especially, enchanted every one by his amiability 
This was the day of the Fite-Dim, and they took us to mass 
at ten in the morning ; but the Ofifertory had scarcely begun 
before we heard a great noise, and they came to tell mv 
father that we must leave the mass at once, because the 
enemy was arriving. It was M. de Bouill^ and his troops of 
whom they thus spoke. We were therefore taken to our 
rooms and shut up there, where we stayed quite a long time. 
They served us a dinner, but in the middle oi it another 
alarm was soimded and they obliged ns to start at once. Of 
all the places we passed through, Chfilons waa the one where 
we were best treated by the inhabitants. . , ^ 


226 MADAME Elisabeth de france. [1790 

We reached fjpemay at three in the aftemooiL It was 
there that my father ran the greatest danger of the whole 
journey. Imagine the courtyard of the hotel where we were 
to get out filled with angry people armed with pikes^ who 
surrounded the carriage in such crowds that it could not 
enter the courtyard. We were therefore absolutely obliged 
to leave it outside and cross that courtyard on foot amid the 
hoots of these people who said openly they wished to kill us. 
Of all the awful moments I have known, this was one of 

those which struck me most, and the horrible impression of 


it will never leave me. 

Entering the house at last, they made us eat a miserable 
meaL In spite of all the threats of the ferocious populace 
to massacre every one, they did not go farther and we started 
from ifiipemay about six in the evening. Just then they 
came to tell us that deputies of the National Assembly were 
arriving. These were Potion, Bamave, Maubourg, Dumas, 
commandant of the Garde of the Assembly, and his nephew 
La Eue. At the moment that the deputies approached our 
carriage, an unfortunate priest who had not taken the oath 
was close by it ; the peasants, who wished to kill him, had 
thrown him on the ground, but a Garde on horseback picked 
him up, put him behind him and rode up to us. At that 
moment the murderers tried to seize him again under the very 
eyes of the deputies. My mother cried out to Bamave to 
save him, which he succeeded in doing through the ascen- 
dency he had over the people, and the poor priest escaped 
with only a wound. 

The deputies, having approached the carriage, told my 
father that by order of the National Assembly they were 
charged to bring him back to Paris, blaming him at the same 
time for wishing to leave France. My father answered that 
he had never had any intention of leaving his kingdom, but 


only that of going to Montm^dy. The deputies then, declar- 
ing they were ordered not to let us out of sight, said they 
must get into our carriage ; but, as it could not hold so many 
persons, they arranged that my aunt and I should go in their 
carriage with Maubourg, and that Potion and Bamave should 
sit with my father and mother. But my aunt and I abso- 
lutely refused to leave the carriage. In spite of that they 
entered it, and though there was no room, Potion placed 
himself between my father and my mother, who was thus 
forced to take my brother on her knees. Bamave sat 
between my aunt, who placed me before her, and Mme, de 
Tourzel. These deputies talked much and disclosed openly 
their manner of thinking ; to which my mother and my aunt 
replied rather energetically. This Potion was a great rascal, 
as he proved later, and Bamave was a small lawyer of 
Dauphin^ who wanted to play a part under the circum- 
stances. Maubourg was [a man of another species, but] an 
insignificant being who had let himself be drawn into the 
Kevolution without knowing why. 

We reached Dormans in the evening, and slept at a little 
inn. The deputies were lodged side by side with us. Our 
windows looked on the street, which all night long was filled 
with the populace shouting, and wanting us to go on in the 
middle of the night ; but the deputies no doubt wanted to 
rest themselves, and so we stayed. My brother was ill all 
night and almost had delirium, so shocked was he by the 
dreadful things he had seen on the preceding day. 

The next day, June 24th, nothing happened of importance, 
except impertinent speeches from the deputies, yells and 
insults from the people, and the excessive heat which over- 
came us because we were, as I have said, eight persons in a 
carriage holding only four. 

We stopped for dinner at Fertd-la-Jouarre ; where my 

228 MAHAMTg Elisabeth de frakce. [1790 

father was well-ieceived by the mayor, named Benard, who 
had the delicacy to prevent any one from entering his house 
or garden. We were told that our three Gardes du Corps must 
be left behind, because there was no safety for them in Paris. 
They remained, nevertheless, with us and nothing happened 
to them. . . . We slept at Meaux in the bishop's house, full 
of priests who had taken the oath, but otherwise civil 
enough; the bishop himself served us. They informed us 
that we must start the next day at five in the morning so as 
to reach Paris in good season. 

We started at six, and though it is only ten leagues from 
Meaux to Paris, we did not reach Bondy, the last post, till 
midday nor the Tuileries till half-past seven at night At 
Bondy the populace showed its desire to massacre our three 
Gardes-dU'Corps, and my father did all he could to save 
them, in which, it must be owned, the deputies eagerly 
seconded him. The crowd we met along the road was in- 
numerable, so that we could scarcely advance. The insults 
with which the people loaded us were our only food through- 
out the day. In the faubourgs of Paris the crowd was even 
greater, and among all those persons we saw but one woman 
fairly well-dressed who showed by her tears the interest she 
took in us. 

On the Place Louis XV. was M. de la Fayette, apparently 
at the summit of joy at the success of the blow he had just 
struck; he was there, surrounded by a people submissive 
to his orders ; he could have destroyed my father at once, 
but he preferred to save him longer in order that he might 
serve his own designs. 

We were made to drive through the garden of the Tuile- 
ries, surrounded by weapons of all sorts, and muskets which 
almost touched us. When the deputies said anything to the 
people they were instantly obeyed, and it is no doubt to their 


intentions (good or bad) that my father owed his preservation 
at that moment ; for had those deputies not been with us it 
is more than likely we should then have been murdered. It 
was they also who saved the Gardes du Corps. 

On arriving at the Tuileries and getting out of the car- 
riage> we were almost carried off our feet by the enormous 
crowd that filled the staircase. My father went up first, 
with my mother and my brother. As for me, I was to go 
with my aunt, and one of the deputies took me in his arms 
to carry me up. In vain did I cry for my aunt ; the noise 
was so dreadful she could not hear me. At last we were 
all reunited in the king's room, where were nearly all the 
deputies of the National Assembly, who, however, seemed 
very civil and did not stay long. My father entered the 
inner rooms with his family, and seeing them all in safety, 
I left him and went to my own apartments, being quite 
worn out with fatigue and inanition. I did not know until 
the next morning what took place that evening. Guards 
were placed over the whole family, with orders not to let 
them out of sight, and to stay night and day in their 
chambers. My father had them in his room at night, but 
in the daytime they were stationed in the next room. My 
mother would not allow them to be in the room where she 
slept with a waiting-woman, but they stayed in the adjoining 
room with the doors open. My brother had them also, night 
and day ; but my aunt and I had none. M. de la Fayette 
even proposed to my aunt to leave the Tuileries, if she 
vnshed to do so, but she replied that she would never sepa- 
rate from the king. 

My father and mother could not leave their rooms, not 
even to go to church, and mass was said in their apartments. 
No one could enter the Tuileries unless by cards of permis- 
sion, which M. de la Fayette granted to few. 

230 MADAME :£:LISAB£TH be FRANCE. [179S 

Such was the state of my parents' captivity duiing more 
than two months until the acceptance by the king of the 
Constitution. After that, we had several months of respite 
and apparent tranquillity, but the king found himself in a 
constant struggle with the Assembly, which ulcerated all 
minds more and more, daUy. 

Assault on the Tuileries hy ike Populace Junt 20, 1792. 

Under the circumstances of that time the people took a 
mania to place in all the public squares and gardens what 
were called "liberty trees;" these were little trees or tall 
poles, at the top of which they put the honntt rouge with 
tricolour ribbons — that is to say, red, blue, and white. They 
expressed to my father a wish to plant one in the garden 
of the Tuileries, and he acquiesced. The day they planted 
this tree was made a species of revolutionary fSte, somewhat 
like that formerly given at the planting of the May tree on 
the first of that month. They triumphed in having wrung 
this consent from my father, and to celebrate it they chose 
the 20th of June, the anniversary of our departure for 
Yarennes, and the f6te was to take place beneath our win- 
dows. Erom all these signs my parents could augur nothing 
good and expect nothing but fresh insults heaped upon 

Previous to this, the Assembly had exacted that the king 
should sign their decree that all*priests who had not taken 
the oath were to be sent out of France. My father would 
not acquiesce in that decree, and had put his veto upon it. 
This veto was a derisory right which the Assembly allowed 
the king to exercise when he would not acquiesce in their 
propositions. On this refusal, they exasperated all minds 


against my father, constantly seeking to force him in one 
way or another to give his consent to the decree. This, 
therefore, was the concealed object they wished to succeed 
in on the occasion of this fete. 

On the 20th of June, about eleven o'clock in the morning, 
nearly all the inhabitants of the faubourgs Saint-Antoine and 
Saint-Marceau, where the populace chiefly lived, marched 
in a body to the National Assembly, to go from there to the 
garden and plant the liberty-tree. But as they were all 
armed, which gave reason to suspect bad intentions, my 
father ordered the gates of the Tuileries to be closed. The 
Assembly showed great dissatisfaction, and sent a depu- 
tation of four municipals to induce the king to order the 
gates to be opened. These deputies spoke very insolently ; 
said they exacted the opening of the gates in order that 
those who had come to plant the tree, the sign of liberty, 
might return that way, inasmuch as the crowd in the rue 
Saint-Honor^ was too great to allow them to pass. My 
father, however, persisted in his refusal, and they then 
went and opened themselves the gates of the garden, 
which was instantly inundated by the populace; the 
gates of the courtyards and the chateau stUl remained 

An hour later this armed procession began to defile before 
our windows, and no idea can be formed of the insults they 
said to us. Among others, they carried a banner on which 
were these words : " Tremble, tyrant ; the people have risen ;" 
and they held it before the windows of my father who, 
though he was not visible himself, could see all and hear 
their cries of "Down with Vetol" and other horrors. 
This lasted until three o'clock, when the garden was at 
last freed. The crowd then passed through the Place du 
Carrousel to the courtyards of the Tuileries, but quietly, 


and it was generally thought they were returning to their 

During this time our family were in the rooms on the 
courtyard side, absolutely alone and observing all that went 
on ; the gentlemen of the suite and the ladies dined on the 
other side. Suddenly we saw the populace forcing the gates 
of the courtyard and rushing to the staircase of the ch&teau. 
It was a horrible sight to see, and impossible to describe — 
that of these people, with fury in their &Lces, armed with 
pikes and sabres, and pell-mell with them women half un- 
clothed, resembling Furies. 

Two of the ushers wishing to run the bolts of my Other's 
door, he prevented it and sprang himself into the next room 
to meet the rioters. My aunt followed him hastily, and 
hardly had she passed when the door was locked. My 
mother and I ran after her in vain; we could not pass, and 
at that moment several persons came to us, and finally, the 
guard. My mother cried out : ** Save my son ! " Imme- 
diately some one took Hitti in his arms and carried him off. 
My mother and I, being determined to follow my brother, did 
all we could against the persons who prevented us from 
passing; prayers, efforts, all were useless, and we had to 
remain in our room in mortal anxiety. My mother kept 
her courage, but it almost abandoned her when, at last, 
entering my brother's room she could not find him. The 
persons who, on her own order, had carried him away lost 
their heads, and in the confusion, took him up higher in 
the ch&teau, where they thought him in greater safety. 
My mother then sent for him and had him brought back 
to his room. There we awaited, in the silence of profound 
anxiety, for news of what had happened to my father. 

Betuming to him, I must resume at the moment when 
he passed through the door which was then locked against 


US. As soon as he thought the danger passed the king dis- 
missed his suite, so that no one was with him but my Aunt 
£lisabeth> [Mar^chal de Mouchy (who in spite of his 77 
years and my father's order persisted in remaining)^ two old 
ushers^ the brave Acloque, commander of the division of the 
National Guard, an example of fidelity in the uniform of re- 
bellion],^ and M. d'Hervilly, lieutenant-colonel of the new 
King's-Guard, who, seeing the danger, ran to call the Guard 
and collected about twenty grenadiers, but on reaching the 
staircase he found only six had followed; the others had 
abandoned him. My father was therefore almost alone 
when the door was forced in by one sapeur, axe in hand 
raised to strike him, but [here] by his coolness and imper- 
turbable courage my father so awed the assassin that the 
weapon fell from his hand, — an event almost incomprehen- 
sibla It is said that some one cried out : '' Unhappy man, 
what are you about to do ? " and that those words petrified 
him ; for my part I think that what restrained that wretch 
was Divine Providence and the ascendancy that virtue always 
maintains over crim& 

The blow having thus failed, the other accomplices, see- 
ing that their leader had let himself be cowed, dared not 
execute their evil designs. Of all this mass of the populace, 
there were certainly very few who knew precisely what they 
were expected to do. To each had been given twenty sous 
and a musket ; they were sent in drunk with orders to insult 
us in every imaginable way. Their leader, Santerre, had 
brought them as for as the courtyard, and there he awaited 
the success of his enterprise. He was desperate on learning 
that his stroke had missed, and he came near being killed 
himself by a man in the chateau, who aimed for him, 

^ This entire passage was rewritten, corrected, and the additions made 
by Louis XVIIL— Fs. Ed. 

234 MADAME Elisabeth be fbancb. [itm 

and was presented from shooting only by lemonstranoes 
as to the danger to which he exposed my father; for if 
Santeire were sacrificed the brigands would surely avenge 

My father was nevertheless obliged to allow all these 
wretches to go through the rooms of the chftteau, and^ 
standing himself in a window with my aunt, he watched 
them pass before him and heard the insults with whidi 
they overwhelmed him. It was on tMs horrible day that 
my father and my aunt each made a memorable speech. 
At the moment of the greatest danger a soldier came up 
to the king and said to him, ^Sire, fear nothing." My 
father took his hand and laid it on his own heart. ''Does 
it beat hard, grenadier ? " he said. Shortly before, my Aunt 
Elisabeth, being mistaken for the queen, saw herself ex- 
posed to the utmost fury of the brigands; some one near 
was about to make her known. ^ Do not undeceive them," 
cried my aunt with sublime devotion. 

This dreadful situation lasted from half-past three in the 
afternoon till eight at night Pdtion, mayor of Paris, arrived, 
pretending to be much astonished on hearing of the dang» 
the king had run. In haranguing the people he had the 
impudence to say : '^ Betum to your homes with the same 
dignity with which you came." The Assembly, seeing that 
the stroke had missed, changed its tone, pretended to have 
been ignorant of eveiything, and sent deputation after depu- 
tation to the king expressing the grief it feigned to feel 
for his danger. 

Meantime my mother, who, as I said, could not rejoin the 
king, and was in her apartment with my brother and me, 
was a long time without hearing any news. At last, the 
minister of war came to tell her that my father was well ; 
he uiged her to leave the room where we then were, as it was 


not safe, and we therefore went into the king 's little bed- 
chamber. We were scarcely there before the rioters en- 
tered the apartment we had just left The room in which 
we now were had three doors : one by which we had entered^ 
another opening upon a private staircase, a third communi- 
cating with the Council Chamber. They were all three 
locked, but the first two were attacked, one by the wretches 
who were pursuing us, the other by men who came up the 
little staircase, where we heard their shouts and the blows of 
their axes. 

In this close danger my mother was perfectly calm ; she 
placed my brother behind every one and near the door of the 
Council Chamber, which was still safe, then she placed her- 
self at the head of us alL Soon we heard some one at the 
door of the Council Chamber begging to enter. It was 
one of my brother's servants, pale as death, who said only 
these few words : '* Madame, escape ! the villaios are follow- 
ing me." At the same instant, the other doors were forced 
in. In this crisis my mother hastily ordered the third door 
opened and passed into the Council Chamber, where there 
were, already, a number of the National Guard and a crowd 
of wretches. 

My mother said to the soldiers that she came to take re- 
fuge with her son among them. The soldiers instantly sur- 
rounded us; a large table standing in the middle of the 
Chamber, served my mother to lean upon, my brother was 
seated on it, and the brigands defiled past it to look at us. 
We were separated from my father by only two rooms, and 
yet it was impossible to join him, so great was the crowd. 
We were therefore obliged to stay there and listen to all the 
insults that these wretches said to us as they passed. A 
half clothed woman dared to come to the table with a han- 
net rouge in her hand and my mother was forced to let her 


place it on her son's head ; as for us^ we were obliged to put 
cockades on our heads. It was, as I have said, about eight 
o'clock when this dreadful procession of rioters ceased to 
pass and we were able to rejoin my father and aunt. No 
one can imagine our feelings at that reunion ; they were 
such that even the deputies from the Assembly were touched 
My brother was overcome with fatigue and they put him to 
bed. We stayed together for a time, the room being full of 
deputies. An hour later they went away, and about eleven 
o'clock, after having passed a most terrible day, we separated 
to get some rest . . . 

The next day Potion came again to play the hypocrite^ 
saying he had heard of more assemblings of the people and 
he had hastened to defend the king. My father ordered him 
to be silent; but as he still tried to protest his attach- 
ment, my father said : ^ Be silent, monsieur ; I know your 

Massacre at the TuHeries ; Dethronement of my Father. 
The Days from the 10th to the IZth of August, 1792. 

After the fatal epoch of June 20, my family no longer en- 
joyed any tranquillity ; every day there were fresh alarms, 
and rumours that the faubourgs Saint Antoine and Saint 
Marceau [together with those wretches who were called the 
Marseillais] were marchiog against the chftteau. Some- 
times they sounded the tocsin and beat the ginirdU ; some- 
times, under pretext of a dinner of confraternity, they invited 
[and worked upon] the sections of opposite opinions to de- 
mand the dethronement of the king, which Danton, Robes- 
pierre, and their party wanted at all costs. After these 
many preludes, we heard with certainty on the 9th of August 
that the populace, armed, was assembling to attack the 


Tuileries ; it was already evening. The tioope who remained 
faithful to my father were therefore hastily collected, among 
them the Swiss Guard ; and a great number of the nobles 
who were [still] in Paris arrived [in haste]. Imagine the 
situation of my unhappy parents during that horrible night ; 
they remained together [expecting only carnage and death], 
and my mother had ordered my brother and me to go to bed. 

Potion arrived about eleven o'clock, exclaiming loudly 
against this new tumult. My father treated him as he de- 
served and sent him away; nevertheless, malignant people 
spread the news that Potion was kept prisoner in the Tuile- 
ries; [on which] minds grew [embittered and] inflamed even 
to fury, and at midnight the signal was given to begin the 
dreadful massacre. The first shot fired killed M. Clermont- 
Tonnerre, a member of the First Assembly. For a part of the 
night the tumult went on outside the Tuileries, where fresh 
reinforcements of the National Guard were successively ar- 
riving ; unfortunately, [far] too many came, for most of them 
were already seduced and treacherously inclined. 

At six in the morning it was suggested to my father to 
visit all the posts and encourage the troops to defend ^iiTn ; 
but only a few cries of Vive le Bai ! were heard in the court- 
yards, and what was worse, when he wished to enter the 
garden, the artillery-men, most wicked of all, dared to turn 
their cannon against their king ; a thing not believable if I 
did not declare that I saw it with my own eyes. 

My father, having thus indubitably recognized the bad 
disposition of the National Guard, saw but too well that no 
faithful subjects remained about him, except a few nobles 
who had come to us, a part of the servants of the cha- 
teau, and the Swiss Guard ; they all armed themselves. M. 
Mandat, commandant of the National Guard in the Tuileries 
[a man of little enterprise but faithful], was summoned by 

238 MADAME Elisabeth de France. [1792 

the mayor to the Hdtel de Ville; there he was murdered 
by order of the municipality, who immediately appointed 
Santerre to replace him. Towards seven in the morning 
Boederer, head of the department, arrived He asked to 
speak alone with the king; there, he threw himself at his 
feet and conjured him to save himself; he represented to 
him that furious brigands were arriving in masses, that he 
had too few persons to defend him, that he had no course 
left but to go, he and his family, and take refuge in the 
National Assembly. My father rejected the idea for a long 
time, but Ecederer insisting, and the peril becoming urgent 
and inevitable, he at last resolved to go to the Assembly 
with his family, Mme. de Lamballe, and Mme. de TourzeL 
He left all the rest of his people in the chfiteau, not doubt- 
ing that as soon as it was known that he had gone, the tu- 
mult would cease and there would be no longer any danger 
for those he left there.^ 

We crossed the garden of the Tuileries in the midst of a 
few National guards, who still remained faithful On the 
way we were told that the Assembly would not receive my 
father. The terrace of the Feuillants, along which we had 
to pass, was full of wretches, who assailed us with insults ; 
one of them cried out : '' No women, or we will kill them 
all!" My mother was not frightened at the threat and 
continued her way. At last we entered the passage to the 
Assembly. Before being admitted [to the hall] we had to 
wait more than half an hour, a number of deputies still 

^ To this LouU xVliJ. adds in a footnote : " After the words ' the rest 
of his people ' [son monde] should be added : ' and the ladies, among whom 
were Mmes. de Tarente, de Doras, de la Rocheaymon, etc, who stayed 
there by his order.' I mention these ladies here aU the more willingly 
because I am certain they were there. I add ' by his order,' 1st, because it 
is true ; 2d, because it explains why so few persons f oUowed the 
and queen to the Assembly." — Tb. 


opposing our entranca We were thuB kept in a narrow 
corridor^ so dark that we could see nothings and hear noth- 
ing but the shouts of the furious mob. My father^ my 
mother^ and my brother were in front with Mme. de Tourzel ; 
my aunt was with me^ on the other side. I was held by a 
man whom I did not know. I have never thought myself 
so near deaths not doubting that the decision was made to 
murder us alL In the darkness I could not see my parents, 
and I feared everything for them. We were left to this 
mortal agony more than half an hour. 

At last we were allowed to enter the hall of the Assembly, 
and my father on entering said [in a loud voice] that he 
came to take refuge with his family in the bosom of the 
Assembly, to prevent the French nation from committing a 
great crime. We were placed at the bar, and they then dis- 
cussed whether it was proper that my father should be pres- 
ent at their deliberations. They said, as to that, that it was 
impossible to let him stay at the bar without infringing on 
the inviolability of the sovereign people ; and they declaimed 
speeches thereon which were full of horrors. After this they 
took us into the box of a journalist. 

We had hardly entered this species of cage when we heard 
cannon, musket-shots, and the cries of those who were mur- 
dering in the Tuileries ; but we were ignorant at the time of 
what was happening. We heard later how the massacre 
began. My father had hardly left the chdteau before a party 
of wretches [already in the courtyards] began to attack with 
amu8 Uanches [sabres and pikes] the Swiss Guard, who 
fired in self-defence. Nothing more was needed to push 
their fury to the highest point ; those who were outside hear- 
ing the Swiss fire first, and taking them for the aggressors, 
spread the rumour that my father had ordered them to fire 
on the people. Soon, not only the courtyard gates but those 


of the cMteau were forced, and these madmen rushed in, 
massacring all whom they found, especially the Swiss. 
[Then and there perished an immensity of faithful servitors 
of all ranks and all classes. Among the victims were MM. 
de Clermont d'Amhoise and de Cast^ja, de Yiomesnil and 
d'Hervilly ; the Mar^chal de Mailly, MM. de Maillardoz and 
de Bachmann died later. AU the old officers of the Guard 
called '' constitutional/' the two battalions of the Filles-St.- 
Thomas and the Petits-P^res distinguished themselves by an 
imbounded devotion, though, unhappily, fruitless. What 
could they do against a multitude maddened with drink and 
blood and fury ?] The Tuileries then became a spectacle of 
horror ; blood ran everywhere, especially in the apartments 
of the kixig and queen. Nevertheless, in the midst of these 
abominations some traits of humanity were shown ; among 
these monsters were some who saved several persons, taking 
them by the arm and making them pass for their friends or 
relatives. The carnage lasted all that day on one side or 
the other; the number of brigands who perished was con- 
siderable, for those wretches killed each other in their blind 
fury. At night, the chftteau took fire ; fortunately, the flames 
lasted but a little while, and so ended those awful and too 
memorable scenes. 

Meantime our terrors increased as these dreadful noises 
went on ; but it was even worse when we heard the same 
sort of cries close to the Assembly. The members them- 
selves were frightened, and in their fear they tore out the 
iron railing of the box where we were and forced my father 
into the midst of them ; but this tumult was soon appeased. 
It was occasioned by the approach of a number of the Swiss 
Guard who had escaped from the Tuileries and were trying 
to come to the support of the king ; they had almost forced 
the door of the Assembly when an officer said to them: 


'' What are you doing ? The king is in the midst of assas- 
sins ; they will murder him if you advance." This reflection 
held them back and they surrendered ; it was thus that these 
brave foreigners [ever faithful], to the number of about one 
hundred, escaped the massacre. As for those of their com- 
patriots who did not perish in the Tmleries, they were taken 
to the Hotel-de-Yille and there massacred with their princi- 
pal officers. A forged order from the king was sent to 
summon the Swiss Guard from the barracks at Courbevoie ; 
on their arrival in Paris they met the same fata 

Still kept in the box at the Assembly, we witnessed the 
horrors of all kinds which there took place. Sometimes they 
assailed my father and all his family with [the basest and 
most atrocious] insults, triumphing over him with cruel joy ; 
sometimes they brought in gentlemen dying of their wounds ; 
sometimes they brought my father's own servants, who, with 
the utmost impudence, gave false testimony agaiost him; 
while others boasted of what they had done. At last, to 
complete the revolting scene, they brought in the Host and 
flung the sacred wafers on the ground. It was in the midst 
of these abominations that our entire day, from eight in the 
morning until midnight, passed [as one may say] through 
all gradations of whatever was most terrible, most awf uL 

The session ended by [a decree full of insults to my father, 
declaring the king suspended from his functions and order- 
ing the convocation of a National Convention. They next 
wished to take up the fate of my brother; they proposed to 
appoint his governor, and even to make him king ; but the 
latter motion was rejected, and that of giving him a governor 
was adjourned until the Convention should declare whether 
the Nation desired to still have a king]. At last they per- 
mitted us, about one at night to retire to one of the little 

rooms near-by, in the convent of the Feuillants ; there we 



242 MADAME Elisabeth de fbance. [1792 

were left alone [without the alightest defence against the 
sanguinary rage of these wretches]. The next day, several 
persons belonging to my father's service came to us. We 
were forced to return again to the Assembly and spend the 
whole day there while they discussed what should be done 
with the king, and where he should be kept The Place 
Yenddme, in which is the Ghancellerie, was proposed for this 
purpose, on which Manuel, public prosecutor for the Com- 
mune of Paris, demanded, in the name of his constituents, to 
be intrusted with the responsibility of keeping my father and 
his family ; and this being granted, he proposed the chftteau 
of the Temple for our residence, which was decreed 

That day and the next were passed like the preceding day ; 
we were forced to listen in the hall of the Assembly to the 
prowess of those who had distinguished themselves by their 
barbarities. At night we returned to our rooms, [where we 
were not allowed to enjoy in peace the hours consecrated to 
rest], a deputy of the Assembly coming an hour after mid- 
night to search and see if we had men hidden there ; none 
were found, for my father had been obliged to send away 
those who had come to him. On the 12th it was determined 
that we should be transferred to the Temple on the following 

On the 13th we did not go to the Assembly. Towards 
three in the afternoon Potion and Manuel came to take my 
father, and they made us all get into a carriage with eight 
seats, into which they got themselves [with their hats on 
their heads and shoutiag, Vive la Nation!], We drove 
through the streets leading to the Temple in great peril and 
loaded with insults ; our conductors themselves feared the 
people so much that they would not let the carriage stop 
for a moment; and yet it took two hours before we could 
reach the Temple through that immense throng. On the 


way they had the cruelty to point out to my parents things 
that would distress them, — the statues of the Kings of France 
thrown down, even that of Henri IV., before which the 
populace compelled us to stop, to make us look at him on 
the ground. . We did not observe on our way any feeling 
souls touched by our condition, such terror was now in- 
spired in those who still thought rightly. And yet, in the 
midst of so many sights which might well break down the 
strongest soul, my father and my mother preserved the 
tranquillity and courage that a good conscience can alone 

ImprUoTmient of my Family in the Tower of the Temple y 
August 13, 1792, followed by the Trial and Martyrdom 
of my Father^ January 21, 1793.^ 

On arriving at the Temple on Monday, August 13th, 1792, 
at six o'clock in the evening, the artillery-men under 
Santerre wished to take my father to the Tower and leave 
us in the chftteau. Manuel had received on the way a 
decree of the Commime designating the Tower as our com- 
mon prison. However, they calmed the artillery-men and 
we entered the chftteau first, where the municipal guards 
kept my father and aU of us within sight. An hour later, 
Potion went away and my father supped with us. At 
eleven, my brother dying with sleep, Mme. de Tourzel took 
him to the Tower, where we were all to go, although nothing 
had been prepared to receive us. My father was surrounded 
by the municipal guards, drunk and insolent, who sat down 
beside him, and talked in a loud voice without the slightest 
regard to him. At one o'clock we were at last taken over 
to the Tower, where Manuel, as secretary-general of the 

1 Here beginfl the part she wrote in the Tower. — Tb. 

244 MADAME Elisabeth de France. [1792-1793 

Commune^ committed us. He was ashamed himself^ to find 
this lodging bare of everythingy and such that my aunt was 
reduced to sleep in the kitchen for several nights. 

The persons who were shut up with us in this fatal place 
were the Pnncesse de Lamballe, Mme. de Tourzel and her 
daughter Pauline, M. de GhamiUy, my father's head valet de 
ehamhre, M. Hu^, in the service of my brother, Mmes. Cim- 
bris, Thibaut, Navarre, and Ba2dre, waiting-women to my 
brother, my mother, my aunt, and mysell My father was 
lodged above on the third floor of the* building adjacent to 
the main body of the Tower ; having a municipal guard in 
his room My aimt occupied a kitchen with Mile, de Tour- 
zel and Mme. Navarre ; my mother lodged below in a salon, 
with me and afterwards Mme. de LambaUe ; and in a third 
room was my brother with Mme. de Tourzel his governess, 
and his maid, Mme. Cimbris; this was a billiard-room. 
Mmes. Thibaut and Bazire slept below. In the kitchen 
of the chateau, destined for our service, were Turgy, 
Chretien, and Marchand, men long attached to the king's 
household, who brought the dishes for our meals to the 

The next day my father came to breakfast at nine o'clock 
in my mother's room, and afterwards we aU went together 
to look over the Tower, because they wanted to make bed- 
chambers of the great rooms. We returned to diae on the 
first floor ID a room adjoining the library. After dinner, 
Manuel and Santerre commander of the National Guard, 
came to the Tower, and my father went to walk with them in 
the garden. On our arrival the previous day they had de- 
manded the departure of the women who were in our ser- 
vice, and we even found new women chosen by Potion 
waiting to serve us, but they were not accepted. The day 
but one after, during our dinner, they brought us a decree 


of the Commime ordering that our women and even the 
ladies should be removed. My father opposed this vehe- 
mentlj and so did the municipal guards^ which annoyed 
those who had brought the order. We were each asked 
privately if we did not wish for others ; on which, having 
all responded no, things remained as they were. 

From this time we were busy in regulating our hours. 
We passed the whole day together; my father taught my 
brother geography and history ; my mother made him learn 
and recite verses; my aunt taught him arithmetic. For- 
tunately there was a library adjoining our apartments [that 
of the guard of the Archives of Malta], where my father 
found an agreeable diversion ; my mother, my aunt, and I 
often did worsted-work. 

My father asked for a man and woman to do the rough 
work, and a few days later they sent a man named Tison 
and his wife. The guards became daily more uncivil and 
insolent, and they never left us one instant alone, either 
when we were together or separate. Mme. de LambaUe was 
allowed to write to the outside and ask for the things she 
needed, but always in open letters read by the municipals. 
At last, during the night of the 19th and 20th of August, 
they brought and read in all our rooms a decree of the 
Commune removing from the Tower all persons who were 
not of the royal family. They ordered Mme. de LambaUe to 
rise. My mother tried to oppose it by urging that she was 
her relative, but in vain ; they replied that they had orders 
to take her away and question her. Obliged to submit, we 
all rose, with death in our hearts, to bid these ladies fare- 
well [an eternal farewell to the Frincesse de Lamballe, and 
it seemed as if we had a presentiment of her horrible fate. 
MM. de Chanully and Hu6 were also taken away] ; our 
waiting-women were prevented from taking leave of us. 

246 MADAME :6lISABETH DE FRANCE. [1792-1793 

Eveiy one having gone, my brother was left alone in his 
room, and they brought him, still asleep, into that of my 
mother where two municipals were on guard. Unable to go 
to sleep again, even my brother who was awakened by the 
noise, we passed the night together; my father, though 
awakened, remained in his room with a municipal The 
men who took away the ladies assured us they would return 
after their examination, but we learned the next day that 
they had been taken to the prison of La Force. M. Hug, 
however, returned at nine o'clock the next morning; the 
Ciouncil, having judged him innocent, sent him back to the 

My mother, left thus alone, took chaige of my brother, who 
slept in her room ; I went to occupy the billiard-room with 
my aunt, and the municipal kept himself during the day in 
the queen's room and at night with the sentinel in the little 
room between us. My father remained above, where he 
slept ; we went up to breakfast with him while they cleaned 
my mother's chamber, after which my father came down and 
spent the entire day with us. 

The 24th, towards one in the morning, they came to 
search my father's room imder pretence of looking for anns, 
and they took away his sword. The next day, the day of 
Saint-Louis, they shouted the *' 9^ ira " close by the Templa 
We then heard that M. de la Fayette [having ended his 
rOle], had abandoned the'army and quitted France, which news 
was confirmed to my father that evening by Manuel, who at 
the same time brought a letter, which had been opened, to 
my Aunt fiUsabeth from my great-aunts in Bome ; this was 
the last that my family received from without. Not only was 
my father no longer treated as king, but he was not even 
treated with simple respect ; he was not called Sire or Your 
Majesty, but merely Monsieur, or Louis ; the municipal guards 

1792-1793] NARRATIVE OF MADAlfE ROYALE. 247 

sat down in his room, their hats on their heads. It was then 
that Potion sent Cl^iy for the service of my brother, to which 
he already belonged ; and he installed as jailers or turnkeys 
of the Tower two men named Eisbey and Bocher. The 
latter was the horrible man who on the 20th of June had 
forced my father's door and tried to kill him. This monster 
roamed around us continually with dreadful glances; he 
never ceased torturing my father in every possible way; 
sometimes he sang the Carmagnole, and other such horrors ; 
at other times he puffed the smoke of his pipe into my 
father's face as he passed, knowing that he disliked the smell 
of it ; at night when we went to supper, as we were obliged 
to pass through his room, he was always in his bed, and 
sometimes he would be there at our dinner hour, pretending 
to sleep ; in short there was no kind of insult and insolence 
he did not invent to. torment us. 

Meantime the king lacked everything ; he therefore wrote 
to Potion to obtain the money which was intended for him ; 
but he received no answer and our discomforts were multi- 
plied daily. The garden, the only place where my father 
could take the air, was full of workmen, who insulted us to 
such a point that one of them boasted he would knock 
off my mother^s head, but Potion had him arrested. Even at 
the windows on the street which looked into the garden, 
people came expressly to insult us. On the 2d of September, 
as we were walking there towards four in the afternoon, not 
knowing what was going on outside, a woman stood at one 
of those windows who loaded my father with insults and 
dared to assail him with stones which fell beside him ; an- 
other of those windows offered us at the same moment a 
very touching contrast. How precious to the unfortunate is 
a mark of interest ! A woman, not less feeling than courar 
geous, having written on a large card the news of the taking 

248 MADAME Elisabeth db fbance. [1792-1793 

of Verdun by the coalitioii army^ held it towards us at a 
window long enough for us to read it, which my aunt did 
without the municipals perceiving it 

We had hardly rejoiced at the news when a new munici- 
pal arrived, named Matthieu [a former capuchin monk]. In- 
flamed with anger he came to my father and told him to 
follow him, which we all did, fearing that they meant to 
separate us. Going upstairs we met M. Hue, and Matthieu 
told him he arrested him ; . • . then, turning to my father, he 
said all that fury could suggest, and especially these words : 
^ The girUrale is beaten, the cannon of warning is fired, the 
tocsin is sounding, the enemies are at Verdun, if they come 
we shall all perish, but you the first." My father listened to 
his threats firmly, with the calm of innocence, but my 
brother, terrified, burst into tears and ran into the next room, 
where I followed him and did my best to console him, but 
in vain ; he imagined he saw my father dead. Meantime, 
M. Hu6 having returned, Matthieu, continuing his insults, 
took him away with him and shut him up in the prison of 
the Mairie, instead of that of the Abbaye where he was to 
have gone, but the massacre of that day had already begun 
there . . . We heard that in the end he was set at liberty, 
but he never returned to the Temple. 

The municipals all condemned the violent conduct of Mat- 
thieu, but they did not do better. They told my father they 
were certain the King of Prussia was on the march and kill- 
ing all Frenchmen by an order signed Louis. There were 
no calumnies they did not invent, even the most ridiculous 
and the most incredible. My mother, who could not sleep, 
heard the ginirale beaten all night 

September 3d at eight in the morning, Manuel came to 
see my father, and assured him that Mme. de Lamballe and 
the other persons taken from the Temple were well and all 


together^ tranquilly, in La Force. At three in the afternoon 
we heard dreadful outcries ; my father left the dinner-table 
and played backgammon with my mother, to control his 
countenance and be able to say a few words to her without 
being heard. The municipal guard in the room behaved well ; 
he closed the door and window, also the curtains, so that they 
might see nothing. The workmen at the Temple and the jailer 
Bocher joined the murderers, which increased the noise. 
Several officers of the National Guard and some municipals 
arrived ; the first desired that my father should show himself 
at the window. The municipals fortunately opposed this ; but 
my father, having asked what was happening, a young officer 
replied : " Well, if you want to know, it is the head of Mma 
de Lamballe they wish to show you." My mother was 
seized with horror ; that was the sole moment when her 
firmness abandoned her. The municipals scolded the officer, 
but my father, with his usual kindness, excused him, saying 
it was not the officer's fault, but his own for having questioned 
him. The noise lasted till five o'clock. 

We learned that the people had tried to force the gates ; 
that the municipals had prevented it by tying across the 
door a tricolour scarf ; and that finally they had allowed six 
of the murderers to enter and walk round our prison with 
the head of Mme. de Lamballe, but on condition that they 
left the body, which they wanted to drag round, at the gate. 
When this deputation entered, Bocher uttered shouts of joy 
on seeing the head of Mme. de Lamballe, and scolded a 
young man who was taken ill, so horrified was he at the 

The tumult was hardly over before Potion, instead of 
exerting himself to stop the massacre, coldly sent his secre- 
tary to my father to reckon about money. This man was 
very ridiculous, and said many things which would have 

250 MADAME tLlBABVrTB DE FRANCE. [1792-1793 

made us laugh at another moment ; he thought my mother 
remained standing on his account ; for since that awful scene 
she had continued standing, motionless, and seeing nothing 
that took place in the room. The municipal guard who had 
sacrificed his scarf at the door made my father pay for it. 
My aunt and I heard the giniraU beaten all night; my 
unhappy mother did not even try to sleep ; we listened to 
her sobs. We did not suppose that the massacre was still 
going on ; it was not until some time later that we learned 
it had lasted three days. 

It is impossible to give all the scenes that took place, as 
much on the part of the municipals as on that of the National 
Guard; everything alarmed them, so guilty did they feel 
themselves. Once, during supper, there was a cry to arms ; it 
was thought that the foreigners were arriving ; the horrible 
Bocher took a sabre and said to my father, ''If they come 
I will kill yoTL" It was only some trouble with the patrols. 
Their severity increased daUy. Nevertheless, we found two 
municipals who softened the misery of my parents by show- 
ing them kind feeling and giving them hope. I fear they 
are dead. There was also a sentinel who had a conversation 
with my aunt through the keyhole. That unfortunate man 
wept all the time he was near us in the Temple. I know 
not what became of him; may heaven have rewarded his 
attachment to his king. 

When I took lessons and my mother prepared extracts for 
me, a municipal was always there, looking over my shoulder, 
believing that there must be conspiracy. The newspapers 
were not allowed us for fear we should know the foreign 
news ; but one day they brought a copy to my father telling 
him he would find something interesting in it. Oh, horror I 
he there read that they would make a cannon-ball of his 
head. The calm and contemptuous silence of my father 


damped the joy they had shown in bringing him that infernal 
writing. One evening a municipal^ on arriving, uttered many 
threats and insults, and repeated what we had ah^ady heard, 
that we should all perish if the enemy approached Paris ; 
he added that my brother alone caused him pity, but, being 
the soA of a tyrant, he must dia Such were the scenes that 
my family had to bear daily. 

The Bepublic was established September 22, they told us 
joyfully ; they also told us of the departure of the foreign 
army ; we could not believe it, but it was true. 

At the beginning of October, they took away from us 
pens, paper, ink, and pencils ; they searched evetywhere, and 
even harshly. This did not prevent my mother and me from 
hiding our pencils, which we kept ; my father and aunt gave 
up theirs. The evening of the same day, as my father was 
finishing supper, they told him to wait ; that he was going into 
another lodging in the Great Tower, and would in future be 
separated from us. At this dreadful news my mother lost her 
usual courage and firmness. We parted from him with many 
tears, still hoping, however, to see him again. The next day 
they brought oiu* breakfast separately from his; my mother 
would eat nothing. The mimicipals, frightened and troubled 
by her gloomy grief, allowed us to see my father, but only at 
meals, forbidding us to speak in low tones or in foreign 
languages, but " aloud and in good French." We then went 
to dine with my father in great joy at seeing him again ; but 
a municipal was there who perceived that my aunt spoke 
low to my father, and he made her a scene. At night, my 
brother being in bed, either my mother or my aimt stayed 
with him, while the other went with me to sup with my father. 
In the mornings we stayed with him after breakfast long 
enough for Cl^iy to comb our hair, because he was not 
allowed to come to my mother's room, and this gave us a 

252 MADAiftE Elisabeth de fbance. [1792-1793 

short time longer to be with 1117 father. We went to walk 
together daily at midday. 

Manuel came to see my father and took away from him 
harshly his cordon rouge (order of Saint-Louis), and assured 
him that none of those who had been at the Temple^ except- 
ing Mme. de Lamballe, had perished. He made Cl^iy, 
Tison, and his wife take an oath to be faithful to the nation. 
A municipal, coming in one evening, woke my brother roughly 
to see if he was there ; this was the only moment of anger 
which I saw my mother show. Another municipal told my 
mother that it was not Potion's purpose to have my father 
die, but to shut him up for life with my brother in the castle 
of Chambord. I do not know what object that man had in 
giving us this information ; we never saw him again. My 
mother was now lodged on the floor above my father's apart- 
ment in the great Tower, and my brother slept in my father's 
chamber, also d^ry and a municipal guard. The windows 
were secured by iron bars and shutters ; the chimneys smoked 

Here is how the days of my parents were passed. My 
father rose at seven o'clock and prayed to Grod till eight 
Then he dressed, and so did my brother, till nine, when 
they came to breakfast with my mother. After breakfast, 
my father gave my brother lessons until eleven o'clock; 
the latter played till midday, when we all went to walk 
together, no matter what the weather was, because the 
guard, which was changed at that hour, wished to see us 
and be certain of our presence in the Tower; the walk 
lasted till two o'clock, when we dined. After dinner my 
father and mother played backgammon or piquet, or, to 
speak more correctly, pretended to play so as to be able to 
say a few words to each other. At four o'clock my mother 
went up with us to her own room and took my brother, 


because the king usually went to sleep at that hour. At 
six my brother went down. My father made him study 
and play till supper-time. At nine o'clock^ after that meal, 
my mother undressed him quickly and put him to bed. 
We went up then to our room, but the king did not go to 
bed till eleven o'clock. My mother did a great deal of 
tapestry-work, and made me study and often read aloud. 
My aunt prayed to Gk>d; she read many books of piety; 
often the queen begged her to read them aloud. 

The newspapers were now returned to us in order that 
we might see the departure of the foreigners and read the 
horrors about the king of which they were fulL A mimi- 
cipal said to us one day: ^^Mesdames, I announce to you 
good news ; many of the SmigrSs, those traitors, have been 
taken; if you are patriots you will rejoice." My mother, 
as usual, said not a word and did not even seem to hear 
him; often her contemptuous calmness and her dignified 
bearing awed these men; it was rarely to her that they 
addressed themselves. 

The Convention came for the first time to see the king. 
The members who composed the deputation asked him if 
he had any complaints to make; he said no, he was sat- 
isfied, so long as he was with his family. Cl^ry complained 
that they did not pay the dealers who provided for the 
Temple. Chabot answered : '' La nation n'est pas k un ^cu 
prfes." The deputies present were Chabot, Dupont, Drouet, 
and Lecointe-Puyraveau. They came back, after dinner, 
and asked the same questions. The next day Drouet came 
back alone and asked the queen if she had any complaints 
to make. My mother made him no answer. Some days 
later, as we were at dinner, the guards threw themselves 
roughly on Cldry and ordered him to follow them to the 
tribunal Not long before, Cl^ry, coming down the staircase 

254 MADAiiE Elisabeth be ekance. [1792-1793 

with a municipal, met a young man of his acquaintance who 
was on guard ; they said good-day to each other and shook 
hands ; the municipal thought that wrong and arrested the 
young man. It was to appear with him before the tribunal 
that Cldry was now .taken. My father asked that he should 
return ; the municipals assured him that he would not re- 
turn ; nevertheless he was bcu^k at midnight He asked the 
king's pardon for his past conduct, which my father's man- 
ner, the exhortations of my aimt, and the sufferings of my 
relations made him change ; after that he was very faithful 

My father fell ill with a heavy cold ; they granted him a 
doctor and his apothecary. The Commime was uneasy; it 
had bulletins every day of his health, which was soon re- 
established. The whole family were ill of this cold; but 
my father was more ill than the rest 

The Commune changed on the 2d of December. The 
new municipals came to inspect my father and his family 
at ten o'clock at night Some days later they issued an 
order to turn Tison and Cl^ry out of our apartments and 
to take away from us knives, scissors, and all sharp in- 
struments; they also ordered that our dishes should be 
tasted before they were served to us. The search was made 
for the sharp instruments, and my mother and I gave up 
our scissors. 

December 11th we were made very anxious by the 
beating of drums and the arrival of a guard at the Temple. 
My father came with my brother to breakfast At eleven 
o'clock Chambon and Chaumette, one the mayor, the other 
the public prosecutor of the (3ommime of Paris, and Colom- 
beau their clerk,went to my father's apartment. There they 
informed him of a decree of the Convention which ordered 
him to be brought to its bar to be interrogated. They re- 
quested him to send my brother to my mother; but not 

1793-i7d3] KABfiATlVE 01* MADAME BOTALB. 265 

having with them the decree of the Convention) thej kept 
my father waiting two hours^ so that he did not start till 
one o'clock, in the mayor's carriage, with Ghaumette and 
Colombeau; the carriage was escorted by municipals on 
foot My father observing that Golombeiau bowed to many 
persons, asked him if they were all his friends; to which 
he answered : '* They are the brave citizens of August 10th, 
whom I never see without joy." 

I shall not speak of my father's conduct before the Con- 
vention ; all the world knows it ; his firmness, his gentle- 
ness, his kindness, his courage, amid assassins thirsting for 
his blood, are traits which will never be forgotten and which 
the most remote posterity will admire. 

The king returned at six o'clock to the Tower of the 
Templ& We had been in a state of anxiety which it is 
impossible to express. My mother made every effort with 
the municipals who guarded her to learn what was happen- 
ing ; it was the first time that she deigned to question them. 
These men would tell her nothing, and it was only after my 
father's return that we heard the facta As soon as he had 
returned she asked urgently to see him ; she even sent to 
Chambon to ask it, but received no reply. My brother 
spent the night in her room ; he had no bed, she gave him 
hers and remained up all night in a gloom so great that we 
did not like to leave her, but she forced us to go to bed, my 
aunt and m& The next day she again asked to see my father 
and to read the journals to learn about his trial; she in- 
sisted that at least, if she might not see my father, permis- 
sion should be granted to my brother and me. This request 
was taken to the Council general ; the newspapers were re- 
fused ; they permitted my brother and me to see my father, 
but only on condition that we should be absolutely sepa- 
rated from my mother. They informed my father of this^ 

256 MAT>AME Elisabeth de francs. [1792-1799 

and he said that, however great his pleasure might be in 
seeing his children, the great business in which he was 
now engaged would not allow him to occupy himself 
with his son, and that his daughter must not leave her 
mother. They then brought my brother's bed into my 
mother's room. 

The Convention came to see my father; he asked for 
counsel, ink, paper, and razors with which to shave; all of 
which were granted to him. MM. de Malesherbes, Tronchet, 
and Desfeze, his counsel, came to him ; he was often obliged, 
in order to speak to them without being heard, to go with 
them into the little tourelle. He no longer went into the 
garden, neither did we ; he heard no news of us, nor we of 
him, unless through the municipals, and then with difficulty. 
I had trouble in my foot, and my father, hearing of it, 
grieved about it with his customary kindness, and inquired 
carefully about my condition. My family foimd in this 
Commune a few charitable men, who, by their kind feeling, 
soothed our torture ; they assured my mother that my father 
would not be put to death, that his case would be sent to 
the primary assemblies, which would certainly save him. 
Alas! they deceived themselves, or from pity endeavoured 
to deceive my mother. On the 26th of December, Saint- 
Stephen's day, my father made his will, because he expected 
to be murdered that day on his way to the bar of the Con- 
vention. He went there, nevertheless, with his usual calm- 
ness, and left to M. Des^ze the care of his defence. He 
went at eleven and returned at three o'clock. 

On the 18th of January, 1793, the day on which the ver- 
dict was given, the municipals entered the king's room at 
eleven o'clock, saying they had orders not to let him out 
of sight. He asked if his fate were decided; they an- 
swered no. The next morning M. de Malesherbes came to 



tell him that his sentence was pronounced ** But, sire/' he 
added, ^ those wretches are not yet masters ; all honest men 
will now come forward to save Tour Majesty or perish at 
your feet" ^^ M. de Malesherbes/' said my father, ^* that would 
compromise many persons and bring civil war into France. 
I would rather die. I beg you to order them from me to 
make no movement to save me ; the king does not die in 
France." After this last conference he was not allowed to 
see his counsel ; he gave the mimicipals a note asking to see 
them, and complaining of the restraint he was under in 
being watched incessantly ; no attention was paid to this. 

Sunday, January 20, Garat, minister of justice, came to 
notify him that his sentence of death would be executed on 
the morrow ; my father listened with courage and religion. 
He asked a respite of three days, to know what would be- 
come of his family, and to obtain a Catholic confessor. The 
respite was refused. Garat assured my father that there was 
no charge against his family and they would all be sent out of 
the country. He asked for a confessor, the Ahh6 Edgeworth 
de Firmont, whose address he gave. Garat brought him. 
The king dined as usual, which surprised the municipals, 
who expected that he would wish to kill himself. 

We learned the sentence pronoimced upon my father on 
that Sunday, the 20th, from the news criers, who came to 
shout it under our windows. At seven in the evening, a 
decree of the Convention arrived, permitting us to go to my 
father ; we hurried there and found him much changed. He 
wept for sorrow over us, and not from fear of death; he 
related his trial to my mother, excusing the wretches who 
caused his death ; he told her that it was proposed to appeal 
to the primary assemblies, but he opposed it, because that 
measure would bring trouble into the State. He then gave 
religious instruction to my brother, told him above all to 


258 MADAME I:LISABETH D£ FRANCE. [1792-1793 

pardon those who were putting him to death, and gave him 
his blessing ; also to me. My mother ardently desired that 
we should pass the night with him ; he refused, making her 
feel that he had need of tranquillity. She begged him at 
least to let us come the next morning ; he granted that to 
her; but as soon as we were gone he told the guard not to 
let us come again, because our presence pained him too 
much. He remained after that with his confessor, went to 
bed at midnight, and slept till five o'clock, when he was 
wakened by the drimis. At six o'clock, the Abb^ Edgeworth 
said mass, at which my father took the Communion. 

He started about nine o'clock ; as he went down the stair- 
way he gave his will to a municipal ; he also gave him a sum 
of money which M. de Malesherbes had brought to him, and 
requested the man to return it ; but the municipals kept it 
for themselves. He next met a jailer, whom he had reproved 
rather sharply the evening before, and said to him : <<Mat* 
thieu, I am sorry to have hurt you." He read the prayers 
for the dying on the way. Arriving at the scaffold, he wished 
to speak to the people, but Santerre prevented it by making 
the drums beat ; the few words he was able to say were heard 
by a few persons only. He then removed his clothing him- 
self, his hands were bound by his own handkerchief, and not 
with a rope. At the moment when he was about to die the 
abb^ said to him : Fits de Saint-Louis, morUez au del — " Son 
of Saint-Louis, ascend to heaven." 

He received the death-blow at ten minutes past ten in the 
morning of January 21, 1793. Thus perished Louis XVI. 
King of France, aged thirty-nine years, five months, and 
three days, having reigned eighteen years. He had been in 
prison five months and eight days. 

Such was the life of the kiog, my father, during his 
rigorous captivity, in which nothing was seen but piety. 


grandeur of soul^ kindness, gentleness, courage, patience in 
supporting the most infamous treatment, the most horrible 
calumnies ; mercy in pardoning with all his heart his mur- 
derers ; love of Gkxi, of his family, of his people — a love of 
which he gave proofs with his last breath and for which he 
has gone to receive his reward in the bosom of an aU-power- 
ful and merciful Grod. 

Life in the Tower of the Temple from the Death of Louis 
XVI. to that of the Queen, October 16, 1793. 

The morning of that terrible day [of the king's death] 
we rose at six o'clock. The evening before my mother had 
scarcely strength enough to imdress my brother and put 
him to bed; she then threw herself, dressed as she was, 
upon her bed, and we heard her through the night trembling 
with cold and sorrow. At a quarter past six they opened 
our door to look for a prayer-book for my father's mass; 
we thought we were to go to him, and we still had that 
hope until the cries of joy of a frenzied populace came to 
inform us that the crime was consummated. In the after^ 
noon my mother asked to see Cl^ry, who was with my 
father to his last moments, thinking that perhaps he had 
charged him with messages for her. We desired this shock, 
in order to cause an outflow of her gloomy sorrow and re- 
lieve the suffocated condition in which we saw her. My 
father had, in fact, ordered Cl^ry to return to my unhappy 
mother his wedding-ring, addiog that he parted from it 
only in parting with life ; he also gave him a packet of my 
mother's hair and ours, saying they had been so dear to him 
that he had kept them till the last instant The municipals 
informed us that Cl^ry was in a dreadful state, and in de- 
spair because they refused to let him see us. My mother 

260 MADAME Elisabeth de frakce. [1793 

charged them to make her request to the council general ; 
she also asked for mourning clothes. Cl^ry passed another 
month in the Temple and was then discharged. 

We now had a little more liberty, the guards thinking 
we were about to be sent away. But nothing was able to 
calm the anguish of my mother; we could make no hope 
of any sort enter her heart; she was indifferent whether 
she lived or died. She looked at us sometimes with a pity 
that made us shudder. Happily, grief increased my illness, 
and that occupied her. My own doctor, Brunier, and the 
surgeon La Caze were brought, and they cured me in a 

We were allowed to see the persons who brought our 
mourmng, but only in presence of the municipals. My 
mother would no longer go down into the garden, because 
that obliged her to pass the door of my father's room, which 
pained her too much; but fearing that want of air might 
harm my brother and myself, she asked, in February, to go 
up upon the Tower, which was granted to her. 

It was discovered that a sealed package in the room of 
the municipals, which contained the king's seal, his ring, 
and several other things, had been opened, the seals broken, 
and the contents carried away. The municipals were very 
uneasy; but finally they believed it had been done by a 
thief who knew that the seal with the arms of France was 
set in gold. The person who took those things was rightly 
intentioned; he was not a thief; he did it for the rights 
because my mother wished the seal and ring to be saved 
for her son. I know who that brave man was ; but alas 1 
he is dead, not because of this affair, but in consequence of 

1 The close air and confinement had produced boils which covered the 
whole body of la petite Madame as she was called. Soon after her father's 
death she came near dying, and a rumour of her death was generall/ 
helieyed. — Tr. 


another good action. I cannot name him, hoping that he 
may have intrusted those precious objects to some one 
else before he perished.^ 

Dumouriez having left France, our imprisonment became 
more restricted. They buiLt a wall which separated us 
from the garden ; they put shutters to the top of the Tower ; 
and plugged all holes with care. On the 25th of March 
the chimney caught fire. That evening Chaumette, prose- 
cutor of the Commune, came for the first time to see my 
mother, and he asked her if she desired anything. My 
mother asked only for a door of communication between her 
room and that of my aunt. (The two terrible nights we 
had passed in her room we had slept, my aimt and I, on 
one of her mattresses placed on the floor.) The municipals 
opposed that request; but Chaumette said that in my 
mother's feeble state it might be necessary for her health, 
and he would speak of it to the Council general The next 
day he came back at ten in the morning with Fache, the 
mayor, and that dreadful Santerre, commander of the Na- 
tional Guard. Chaumette told my mother he had spoken to 
the Council of her request for a door, which was refused. 
She made no answer. Fache asked her if she had any 
complaints to make. My mother said, *^ No," and paid no 
further heed to him. 

Some time later we found certain municipal guards who 
soothed our griefe a little by their kind feeling. We knew 
after a while, those with whom we had to do; especially 
my mother, who saved us several times from trusting to a 
false show of interest. There was also another man who 

1 The man was one of the municipalsi named Toulan, who gare the 
leal and ring to Tnrgy, who took them to Monsieur, afterwards Louis 
XVnL (See Appendix y.) Toolan was one of the nine municipals 
guiUotined soon after the queen, for haying conspired to help her. 
— Tr. 


did services to my family. I know all those who took an 
interest in us ; I do not name them, for fear of compromis- 
ing them as things now are, but the recollection of them 
is graven on my heart ; and if I can never show them my 
gratitude, Gk)d will reward them; but if the day comes 
when I can name them they will be loved and esteemed 
by all virtuous persons.^ 

Precautions redoubled ; Tison was not allowed to see his 
daughter, and he became ill-tempered. One evening a per- 
son brought some articles for my aunt ; he was angry that 
this man should be allowed to enter, and not his daughter ; 
he said things which led Pache, who was below, to send for 
him. They asked him why he was so displeased. "At not 
seeing my daughter," he replied, " and because some of these 
municipals are behaving badly." (He had seen them speak- 
ing low to my mother and aunt.) They asked their names ; 
he gave them, and declared that we had correspondence with 
the outside. To furnish proofs he said that one day my 
mother, on taking out her handkerchief, had let fall a pencil ; 
and another day he had found v^afers and a pen in a box in 
my aunt's room. After this denimciation, which he signed, 
they sent for his wife, who repeated the same thing; she 
accused several of the mimicipals, declared that we had had 
correspondence with my father duriag his trial, and de- 
noimced my doctor, Brunier (who treated me for trouble in 
my foot), for having brought us news. She signed all that, 
being led away by her husband; but, in the end, she had 
great remorse for it. That denimciation was made April 19 ; 
the next day she saw her daughter. 

On the 20th, at half-past ten at night, my mother and I 
had just gone to bed when Hubert arrived with several other 

1 Theie men were Toulan, Lepttre, Beogneau, Vincent, Bruno, Micho- 
nifl, and Merle. — F:l Ed. 


municipals; we lose hastily. They read us a decree of 
the Conyention] ordering that we be carefully searched, 
even to the mattresses. My poor brother was asleep; 
they pulled him roughly out of his bed, to search it; my 
mother held him, all shivering with cold. They took from 
my mother the address of a shop she had always kept, 
a stick of sealing-wax from ^y aimt, and from me a Sacred 
Heart of Jesus and a prayer for Franca Their search did 
not end till four in the morning. They wrote a proeis-^erbal 
of all they found, and obliged my mother and aunt to sign it, 
threatening to carry us off, my brother and me, if they refused. 
They were furious at having found nothing but trifles. 
Three days later they returned, and demanded to see my 
aunt in private. They then questioned her on a hat they 
had foimd in her room; they wished to know whence it 
came, and how long she had had it, and why she had kept it 
She answered that it had belonged to my father at the be- 
ginning of his imprisonment in the Temple; that she had 
asked for it, to preserve it for love of her brother. The muni- 
cipals said they should take it away as a suspicious thing ; 
my aunt insisted on keeping it, but was not allowed to do 
so. They forced her to sign her answer and they carried 
away the hat 

Every day my mother went up on the Tower to have us 
take the air. For some time past my brother had complained 
of a stitch in his side [point de cdW]. May 6th, at seven in 
the evening, a rather strong fever seized him, with headache 
and the pain in his side. At first he could not lie down, for 
it suffocated him. My mother was uneasy and asked the 
municipals for a doctor. They assured her the illness was 
nothing and that her motherly tenderness was needlessly 
frightened. Nevertheless, they spoke to the Council and 
asked in my mother's name for Dr. Brunier. The Council 


laughed at my brother's illness, because Hubert had seen 
him five hours earlier without fever. They positively refused 
Brunier, whom Tison had recently denounced. Nevertheless, 
the fever became veiy strong. My aunt had the goodness to 
take my place in my mother's room, that I might not sleep in 
a fever atmosphere, and also that she might assist in nursing 
my brother; she took my bed, and I went to hers. The 
fever lasted several days, the attacks being worse at 

Though my mother asked for a doctor, it was several days 
before her request was granted. At last, on a Sunday, Thieny, 
the physician of prisons, was appointed by the Commune to 
take care of my brother. As he came in the morning he 
found little fever, but my mother asked him to return in the 
afternoon, when he found it very high, and he disabused the 
municipals of the idea they had that my mother was anxious 
about nothing; he told them that, on the contrary, the 
matter was more serious than she thought He had the 
kindness to go and consult Brunier about my brother's illness 
and the remedies that should be given to him, because 
Bnmier knew his constitution, he being our physician from 
infancy. He gave him some remedies, which did him good. 
Wednesday, he made him take medicine, and that night I 
returned to sleep in my mother's room. She felt much un- 
easiness on account of that medicine, because the last time 
that my brother had been purged he had frightful convul- 
sions and she feared he might have them agaiiL She did 
not sleep all night My brother, however, took his medicine, 
and it did him good without causing him any accidents. He 
still had attacks of fever from time to time and the stitch in 
his side continued. His health began from this time to 
change, and it was never restored ; the want of air and ex- 
ercise did him much harm, also the sort of life the poor 


child livedo in the midst of tears and shocks^ alarm and con- 
tinual terrors, at eight years of age. 

May Slat we heard the girUraU beaten and the tocsin 
rung, but no one would tell us the cause of the uproar. The 
guards were forbidden to let us go up on the Tower to take 

the air ; an order always given when Paris was in disturb- 
ance. At the b^inning of June, Chaumette came with 
n^rt and asked my mother if she desired anything. She 
answered no, and paid no further attention to them. My aimt 
asked Hubert for my father's hat which he had taken away ; 
he replied that the Council general did not see fit to retiun 
it to her. My aimt, seeing that Chaumette did not go away, 
and knowing how much my mother suffered inwardly from 
his presence, asked him why he had come and why he re- 
mained. He answered that he visited all the prisons, they 
were all equal, and therefore he came to the Temple. My 
aunt replied no, because, in some, persons were justly im- 
prisoned, and others unjustly. Chaumette and Hubert were 
both dnmk. 

Mme. Tison became insane; she was anxious about my 
brother's illness and had long been tortured by remorse ; she 
languished and would not take the air. One day she began 
to talk to herself. Alas ! it made me laugh, and my poor 
mother, also my aunt, looked at me with satisfaction, as if my 
laughter did them good. But Mme. Tison's insanity increased ; 
she talked aloud of her wrong-doings, of her denunciations, 
of the prison, of the scaffold, of the queen, of her own family, 
and of our sorrows ; admitting that because of her bad deeds 
she was unworthy to approach my family. She thought that 
those whom she had denounced had perished. Every day 
she watched for the municipals whom she had accused ; not 
seeing them she went to bed gloomy ; there she had frightful 
dreams and uttered cries, which we heard. The municipals 



allowed her to see her daughter^ whom she loved. One day 
the porter, who did not know of this permission, refused 
entrance to the daughter. The municipals, finding the mother 
desperate, sent for her at ten at night That late hour 
alarmed the woman still more ; she was very unwilling to 
go down, and said to her husband : ** They are going to take 
us to prison." She saw her daughter, but could not recognize 
her. She went back with a municipal, but on the middle of 
the stairway she would neither go up nor down. The mu- 
nicipal alarmed, called others to make her go up; when 
there, she would not go to bed, but talked and shouted, which 
prevented my family fiom sleeping. The next day, the doc- 
tor saw her and found her quite mad. She was always on 
her knees to my mother, begging her forgiveness. It is im- 
possible to have more pity than my mother and my aunt had 
for this woman, to whom assuredly they had no reason to 
feel kindly. They took care of her and encouraged her all 
the time she remained in the Temple in this state. They 
tried to calm her by the sincere assurance of their pardon. 
The next day the guards took her fiom the Tower and put 
her in the chftteau of the Temple, but, her madness increas- 
ing, they removed her to the Hdtel-Dieu and put a wonum 
to spy upon her and report the things she might let dropi 

On the 3d of July, they read us a decree of the Conven- 
tion ordering that my brother be separated from us and 
lodged in a more secure room in the Tower. Hardly had he 
heard it when he flung himself into his mother's arms uttering 
loud cries, and imploring not to be parted from her. My 
mother, on her side, was struck down by the cruel order ; she 
would not give up her son, and defended, against the munici- 
pals, the bed on which she placed him. They, absolutely 
determined to have him, threatened to employ violence and 
to call up the guard. My mother told them they would 


have to kill her before they could tear her child from her. 
An hour passed in resistance on her part^ in threats and 
insults from the municipals, in tears and efforts from all of 
us. At last they threatened my mother so positively to kiU 
him and us also that she had to yield for love of us. We 
rose, my aunt and I, for my poor mother no longer had any 
strength, but after we had dressed him she took him and 
gave hiTTi into the hands of the municipals herself, bathing 
him with tears and foreboding that she would never 
see him again. The poor little boy kissed us all very 
tenderly and went away in tears with the municipals. My 
mother charged them to ask permission of the Council 
general to let her see her son, if only at meals, and they 
promised her to do so. She was overcome by the separation ; 
but her anguish was at its height when she learned that 
Simon, a shoemaker, whom she had seen as a municipal, was 
intrusted with the care of the imf ortunate child. She asked 
incessantly to see him, but could not obtain it ; my brother, 
on his side, wept for two whole days, never ceasing to ask to 
see us. 

The municipals no longer remained in my mother's room ; 
we were locked in night and day and under bolts. This was 
a comfort, as it relieved us of the presence of such persons. 
The guards came only three times a day, to bring our meals 
and examine the windows to make sure that the bars were 
not cut We had no one to wait upon us, but we liked this 
best ; my aunt and I made the beds, and served my mother. 
In the cabinet in the tourdle was a narrow opening through 
which we could see my brother when he went up to the 
battlements, and the sole pleasure my mother had was to see 
him through that little chink as he passed in the distance. 
She stayed there for hours, watching for the instant when she 
could see the child ; it was her sole hope, her sole occupa- 

268 MADAlfE :§:LISAB£TH DE FRANCE. [1793 

tion. She rarely heard news of him, whether from the 
mimicipals or from Tison, who sometimes saw Simon. Tison, 
to repair his past conduct, behaved better, and sometimes 
gave news to us. 

As for Simon, he maltreated my brother beyond what we 
could have imagined, and all the more because the child 
wept at being parted from us ; but at last he frightened 
V^iTTi so much that the poor boy dared not shed tears. My 
aunt entreated Tison, and those who in pity gave us news of 
him, to conceal these horrors from my mother ; she knew or 
suspected enough. The rumour ran that my brother had 
been seen on the boulevard ; the guards, vexed at not seeing 
him, declared he was no longer in the Temple. Alas I we 
hoped this for a moment ; but the Convention ordered him 
to be taken down into the garden that people might see him. 
There my brother, whom they had not had time to change 
entirely, complained of being separated from my mother, and 
asked to see the law that ordered it ; but they made him hold 
his tongu& The members of the Convention, who had come 
to make certain of my brother's presence, went up to my 
mother. She complained to them of the cruelty shown in 
taking her son from her ; they answered that it was thought 
necessary to take that measure. A new prosecutor-general 
also came to see us ; his manners astonished us, in spite of 
all we had learned to expect from our troubles. From the 
moment that man entered until he left he did nothing but 

On the 2d of August, at two in the morning' titiey woke 
us up to read to my mother the decree of the Convention 
which ordered that, on the requisition of the prosecutor of the 
Commune, she should be taken to the Conciergerie in pre- 
paration for her triaL She listened to the reading of the 
decree without emotion, and without saying a single word. 


My aunt and I asked at once to go with my mother, but 
this mercy was not granted to us. While she was mak- 
ing up a parcel of her clothes the municipals never left her ; 
she was obliged to even dress herself before them. They 
asked for her pockets, which she gave them ; they searched 
them and took all that was in them although there was 
nothing of importance. They made a packet of these articles 
and said they should send it to the revolutionary tribunal, 
where it would be opened before her. They left her only a 
handkerchief and a smelling-bottle, in the fear that she might 
be taken faint. 

My mother, after tenderly embracing me and telling me 
to have courage, to take good care of my aunt, and to obey 
her as a second mother, repeated to me the same instructions 
that my father had given me ; then throwing herself into my 
aunt's arms she commended her children to her. I answered 
nothing, so terrified was I at the idea that I saw her for the 
last time ; my aunt said a few words to her in a low voice. 
Then my mother went away without casting her eyes upon 
us, fearing no doubt that her firmness might abandon her. 
She stopped once at the foot of the Tower, because the mimi- 
cipals had to make a procks-verbal to discharge the concierge 
from the care of her person. As she went out, she struck 
her head against the lintel of the door, not thinking to lower 
it They asked her if she was hurt. ^' Oh, no/' she said ; 
** nothing can hurt me now." 

She was put into a carriage with a municipal and two 
gendarmes. On reaching the Goncieigerie they placed her in 
the dirtiest, dampest, most imwholesome room in the build- 
ing. She was kept in sight by a gendarme, who never left 
her day or night My aunt and I were inconsolable and we 
passed many days and nights in tears. They had, however, 
assured my aunt, when my mother was taken, that no harm 

270 MADAME Elisabeth de France. [1793 

would happen to her. It was a great consolation for me not 
to be parted from my aunt, whom I loved much ; but alas ! 
all is now changed, and I have lost her too I 

The day after my mother's departure, my aunt asked mg- 
ently, in her name and mine, to be reunited with her ; bat 
she could not obtain it, nor even get any news of her. Ab 
my mother, who never drank anjrthing but water, could not 
endure that of the Seine, which made her ill, we begged the 
municipals to send her that of Yille d'Avray, which was 
brought daily past the Temple. They consented, and got a 
decree in consequence ; but another of their colleagues airived 
just then and opposed it. A few days later, my mother, in 
order to get news of us, tried to send for some necessary 
articles, among others her knitting, for she had begun a pair 
of stockings for my brother. We sent it, together with all 
we could find of silks and wools, for we knew how she liked 
to be busy; she had a habit in former days of always 
being at work, except in her hours of public appearanca 
In this way, she had covered a vast quantity of furniture 
and had even made a carpet and a great deal of coarse-wool 
knitting of all kinds. We therefore collected all we could ; 
but we learned afterwards that nothing had been given to 
her, fearing, they said, that she might do herself a harm 
with the knitting-needles. 

Sometimes we heard news of my brother from the muni- 
cipals; but that did not last long. We could hear him 
every day singiog, with Simon, the Carmagnole, the air of 
the Marseillais, and other horrors. Simon made him wear 
the bonnet rov^e, and a carmagnole, and sing at the windows 
to be heard by the Garde ; he taught bim to swear dread- 
ful oaths against Gk)d, his family, and aristocrats. My 
mother, happily, did not hear these horrors ; oh ! my God, 
what harm they would have done her I Before her depart- 


tue, they had come for mj brother's clothes ; she said she 
hoped thej would not take off his mourning ; but the first 
thing Simon did was to take away his black coat The 
change of life and his bad treatment made my brother ill 
towards the end of August Simon made him eat horribly 
and forced him to drink much wine, which he detested 
All this gave him fever; he took medicine which did him 
harm, and his health became wholly out of order. He grew 
extremely fat but did not grow taller. Simon, however, 
still took him on the Tower to get air. 

At the beginning of September I had an illness which 
had no other cause than my anxiety about my mother's fate. 
I could not hear the drums without fearing another Septem- 
ber 2d. We went up on the Tower daily. The municipals 
paid their visits punctually three times a day; but their 
severity did not prevent us from hearing news from without, 
especially of my mother, which we cared for most In spite 
of all their efforts, we always found some good souls in whom 
we inspired interest We learned that my mother was accused 
of having correspondence with the outside. Immediately we 
threw away our writings, pencils, everything we stiU kept, 
fearing that they might make us undress before Simon's wife 
and that the things we had might compromise my mother; 
for we had always kept paper, ink, pens, and pencils, in spite 
of the closest search in our rooms and furniture. We heard 
also that my mother might have escaped, and that the wife 
of the concieige was kind and took great care of her. 

The municipals came and asked us for my mother's linen, 
but they would give us no news of her health. They took 
away from us the pieces of tapestry which she had worked, 
and those on which we were then working, under pretext 
that there might be mysterious signs in that tapestry and 
a peculiar kind of writing. 

272 MADAME Elisabeth de France. [1793 

September 21st at one o'clock in the morning, Hubert 
arrived with several municipals to execute a decree of the 
Commune, which ordered that we should be more doeely 
confined, and have in future but one room ; that Tison, who 
still did the heavy work, should be put in prison in the 
Tower; that we should be reduced to simple necessaries, and 
that we should have a grating at our entrance door through 
which our food should be passed, and finally, that no one 
should enter our room but the bearers of wood and water. 
This grating was not put in the door and the municipals 
continued to enter three times a day to bring our food and 
carefully examine the bars of our window, the closets, and 
bureaus. We made our beds, and were obliged to sweep 
our room, which took a long time from the little practice we 
had of it in the beginning. We had no one now to serve 
us. Hubert told my a\mt that in the French republic 
equality was the first law, that the prisoners in other prisons 
had no one to serve them, and he should now take Tison 
from us.^ 

In order to treat us with still more harshness they de- 
prived us of what were little comforts ; for example, they 
took away the arm-chair in which my aimt always sat, and 
many other things; we were not even allowed what was 
necessary. We could no longer learn any news, unless from 
the street hawkers, and then indistinctly though we listened 
closely. They forbade us to go up on the Tower, and they 

1 Turgy, in his ** Historical Fragments," thus relates how the captives 
were treated as to meals (he was on service in the kitchen and it was his 
duty to bring up the meals) : " That day the commissioners ordered 
ns to take up the dinner as usual, but they would not let us lay the table. 
They gave each princess a plate in which they put soup and a bit of beef, 
and a piece of coarse bread on the side of it ; they gave them a i>ewter 
spoon, an hron fork, and a black-handled knife, and a bottle of wme from 
a tarem. The commissioners then made us serve to themselves the dinner 
prepared for the princesses." — Fb. Ed. 


took away our large sheets, for fear that, in spite of the 
bars, we might escape through the windows ; that was only 
a pretext They gave us, in exchange, very coarse and dirty 


I believe it was about that time that my mother's trial 
began. I heard, after her death, that friends had tried to 
rescue her from the Concieigeria I was assured that the 
gendarmes who guarded her and the wife of the concierge 
had been bribed by one of our friends ; that she had seen 
several very devoted persons in the prison, among them a 
priest who administered to her the sacraments, which she 
received with great piety. The opportunity to escape &iled 
once because, having been told to speak to the second guard, 
she made a mistake and spoke to the first. Another time 
she was out of her room and had already passed the corri- 
dor, when a gendarme stopped her, although he was bribed, 
and forced her to go back to her room, which defeated the 
enterprise. Many persons took interest in my mother; 
indeed, unless they were monsters of the vilest species — 
and such, alas I many were — it was impossible to approach 
her and see her for even a few moments without being filled 
with respect, so much did kindness temper what was stately 
and dignified in her bearing. But we knew none of these 
details at that time; we knew only that my mother had 
seen a Chevalier de Saint-Louis who had given her a pink 
in which was a note ; but we were now so closely confined 
we could not learn the result.^ 

Every day we were searched by the municipals. On the 
4th of September they came at four in the morning to make 
a thorough visitation and take away the silver and the 
china. They took all that was left to us, and finding an 

^ This was M. de BougeTille ; meiition is made of his yisit to the queen 
in the Conciergerie in Count Fersen's Diary. — Tb. 



article TnifwiTig they had the baseness to accuse ns of hav- 
ing stolen it, whereas it was one of their colleagues who had 
hidden it They found behind the drawers of my aunt's 
wash-stand a roll of louis, which they seized with extraor- 
dinary avidity. They questioned my aunt closely to know 
who gave her that gold, how long she had had it^ and for 
whom she was keepiog it. She answered that the Piinoesse 
de lamballe had given it to her after the 10th of August^ 
and that, in spite of all the searches, she had preserved it 
They asked her who had given it to Madame de Lamballe, 
and she said she did not know. The &ct was that the 
Princesse de Lamballe's women had found means to send 
the money to her in the Temple, and she had shared it with 
my parents. They questioned me also, asked my name, as 
if they did not know it, and made me sign the proch^ 

October 8th at midday, as we were busy doing up our 
chamber and dressing ourselves, Pache, Chaumette, and 
David, members of the Convention, arrived with several 
municipals. My aunt would not open the door until she 
was dressed. TsLche, turning to me, requested me to go 
down. My aunt wished to follow me; they refused her. 
She asked if I should return. Chaumette assured her that 
I should, saying : ** You may rely on the word of a good 
republican." I kissed my aunt, who was trembling all over, 
and I went down. I was very embarrassed ; it was the first 
time I was ever alone with men; I did not know what 
they wanted of me, but I commended myself to God. On 
the staircase Chaumette wished to do me civilities; I did 
not answer him. Entering my brother's room I kissed him 
tenderly ; but they snatched him from my arms telling me 
to pass on into the next room. There Chaumette made 
me sit down ; he placed himself in front of ma A munici- 


pal took a pen, and Chaumette asked me my nama After 
that Hubert questioned me; he began thus: — 

''Tell the truth. This does not concern either you or 
your relations." 

'' Does it not concern my mother ? " 

** No ; but persons who have not done their duty. Do you 
know the citizens Toulan, Lepitre, Bruno, Bugnot, Merle, and 

« No." 

'* What, you do not know them ? '' 

" No, monsieur." 

'' That is false, especially as to Toulan, that small young 
man who often waited on you in the Temple." 

'' I did not know him any more than the others." 

*' You remember a day when you stayed alone with your 
brother on the tower ? " 

« Yes." 

^ Your relations sent you there that they might talk more 
at their ease with those men." 

" No, monsieur, it was to accustom us to the cold." 

" What did you do on the tower ? " 

*' We talked, we played." 

** And, on going out, did you see what those men brought 
to your relations ? " 

*' I did not see anything." 

Chaumette then questioned me on a great many vUe 
things of which they accused my mother and my aimt I 
was aghast at such horrors, and so indignant that, in spite 
of the fear I felt, I could not keep myself from saying it 
was an infamy. In spite of my tears they insisted long. 
There were things I did not understand, but what I did 
understand was so horrible that I wept with indignation. 
Then they questioned me on Yarennes, and asked me many 


questions which I answered as best I could without com- 
promising any one. I had always heard my parents say 
that it was better to die than to compromise any one, no 
matter who. At last my examination ended, at three 
o'clock; it began at midday. I asked Chaumette ardently 
to reunite me with my mother, telling Mm, with truth, 
that I had asked it a thousand times of my aunt ** I can 
do nothing about it," he said. *^ What ! monsieur, cannot 
you obtain it from the Council general?" **I have no 
authority there," he replied. He then sent me back to my 
room with three municipals, telling me to say nothing to 
my aunt, who was now to be brought down. On arriving 
I threw myself into her arms, but they separated us and 
told her to go down. 

They asked her the same questions that they asked me 
about the persons I have named. She denied sJl communi- 
cation with the outside aad replied with still greater con- 
tempt to the vile things about which they questioned her. 
She returned at four o'clock: her examination had lasted 
only one hour, mine three; this was because the deputies 
saw they could not intimidate her as they expected to do 
with one of my age ; but the life I had led for four years, 
and the example of my relations had given me strength of 

Chaumette had assured us that our examination did not 
concern my mother or ourselves, and that she would not be 
tried. Alas! he deceived us, for my mother was tried and 
condemned soon after. I do not yet know the circumstances 
of her trial, of which we were ignorant, as we were of her 
death; therefore I can only say what I have since discov- 
ered.^ She had two defenders, MM. Ducoudray and Chan- 

^ This part of the Narrative was written, it will be remembered, during 
the last solitary months of her life in the Tower. — Tb. 


yeau-Lagaide. Many persons were brought up before her, 
among whom some, alas ! were very estimable, others were 
not. Simon and Matthieu, the jailer at the Temple, appeared. 
I think of how my mother must have suffered when she 
saw those men whom she knew were near us. They sum- 
moned Dr. Brunier before the tribimaL They asked him if 
he knew my mother. "Yes." "Since when?" "Since 
1788, when the queen confided to me the health of her 
chUdren." "When you went to the Temple did you pro- 
cure for the prisoners correspondence with the outside?" 
"No." My mother here said: "Dr. Brunier, as you 
know, never came to the Temple unless accompanied 
by a municipal, and never spoke to us except in his 

Finally, inconceivable factl my mother's examination 
lasted three days and three nights without discontinuing. 
They questioned her on all the vile things about which 
Ghaumette had questioned us — the mere idea could enter 
the minds of only such men. "I appeal to all mothers," 
was her answer to that infamous accusation. The people 
were touched. The judges, alarmed and fearing that her 
firmness, her dignity, her courage would inspire interest, 
hastened to condemn her. My mother heard her sentence 
with much calmness. 

They gave her for her last moments a priest who had 
taken the oath. After gently refusing him, she took no 
further notice of what he said to her, and would not make 
use of his ministry. She knelt down, prayed to God alone 
for a long time, coughed a little, then went to bed and slept 
some hours. The next morning, knowing that the rector 
of Sainte-Marguerite was in prison opposite to her, she 
went to the window, looked at his window, and knelt down. 
I am told that he gave her absolution or his blessing. Then, 

278 MADAME &LISABETH D£ FRANCE. [1793-1795 

having made the sacrifice of her life^ she went to death 
with courage, amid curses which the imhappy, misguided 
people poured forth against her. Her courage did not 
abandon her in the cart, nor on the scaffold; she showed 
as much in death as she had shown in life. 

Thus died, October 16, 1793, Marie-Antdinette-Jeanne- 
Josfephe de Lorraine, daughter of an emperor and wife of 
a king of France, aged thirty-seven years and eleven 
months, having been twenty-three years in France. She 
died eight months after her husband, Louis XYL 

Lift in the Temple tUl the Martyrdom of Madams JEHisaheih 
and the Death of the Dauphin^ Louie XVIL 

We were ignorant, my aimt and I, of the death of my 
mother, though we heard the hawkers crying her condem- 
nation in the streets ; but hope, so natural to the unhappy, 
made us think she had been saved. We refused to believe 
in a general abandonment^ But I do not yet know what 
things have happened outside, nor if I myself will ever leave 
this prison, though they give me hopes of it 

There were moments when, in spite of our hope in the 
Powers, we felt keen anxiety about my mother, when we saw 
the fury of the unhappy populace against us. I remained in 
this cruel imcertainty for one year and a half ; then only, 
did I learn my misfortime, and the death of my honoured 

We learned from the hawkers the death of the Due 
d'Orl&ms; this was the only news that reached us during 

1 They were abandoned Tirtuallj by all Europe. See the Diary and 
Correspondence of Count Fersen, the preceding rolume of this Historical 
Series. — Te. 


the winter [of 1793-94]. But the searches continued and 
they treated us with much severity. My aunt, who, since 
the Sevolution, had an ulcer on her arm, had great difficulty 
in obtaining what was necessary to dress it; it was long 
refused to her. At last, one day, a municipal represented 
the inhumanity of such treatment, and an ointment was sent 
They deprived me also of the means of making an herb-tea 
which my aunt made me take every morning for my health. 
Having no fish, she asked for eggs or other dishes on fast- 
days. They refused them, saying that in equality there was 
no difference of days; there were no weeks, only decades. 
They brought us a new almanac, but we did not look at it. 
Another time, when my aunt again asked for fas^niay food 
they answered : " Why, citoyenne, don't you know what has 
taken place ? none but fools believe all that." She made no 
further requests. 

They continued to search us, especially in the month of 
November. An order was given to search us every day three 
times ; one search lasted from four in the afternoon till half- 
past eight at night The four municipals who made it were 
all drunk. No one could form an idea of their talk, their 
insults, their oaths during those four hours. They carried 
away mere trifles, such as our hats, cards having kings on 
them, books in which were coats of arms ; and yet, they left 
religious books, after saying impurities and foUies about 
them. Simon accused us of foiging assignats and of having 
correspondence with the outsida He declared we had com- 
municated with my father during his trial He made a 
declaration in the name of my poor little brother, whom he 
had forced to sign it. A noise, that he said was the false 
money he accused us of making, was that of our backgam- 
mon, which my aunt, wislung to amuse me a little, had been 
kind enough to teach me. We played it in the evening 

280 MADAME i:LISABETH D£ FRANCE. [1793-1795 

during the winter, which passed rather quietly, in spite of 
the inquisition and searches. They gave us wood to bum, 
which they had hitherto refused us. 

January 19th we heard a great noise in my brother's 
room, which made us conjecture that they were taking him 
from the Temple; we were convinced of it when, looking 
through the key-hole, we saw them carrying away packages. 
The following days as we heard his door open and persons 
walking in his room we were more than ever convinced that 
he was gona We thought they had put some important 
personage in the lower room ; but I have since learned that 
it was Simon who had gone away. Obliged to choose be- 
tween his office as municipal and that of jailer to my brother, 
he preferred the former. I have since heard also that they 
had the cruelty to leave my poor brother alone ; unheaid-of 
barbarity which has suroly no other example ! that of aban- 
domng a poor child only eight years old, already ill, and 
keeping him locked and bolted in, with no succour but a bell, 
which he did not ring, so afraid was he of the persons it would 
call ; he preferred to want for all rather than ask anything of 
his persecutors. 

He lay in a bed which had not been made for more than six 
months, and he now had no strength to make it; fleas and 
bugs covered him, his linen and his person wero full of them. 
His shirt and stockings had not been changed for a year; his 
excrements remained in the room, no one had removed them 
during all that time. His window, the bars of which were 
secured by a padlock, was never opened ; it was impossible 
to stay in his chamber on account of the foul odour. It is 
true that my brother neglected himself; he might have 
taken rather more care of his person ; he could at least have 
washed himself, because they gave him a pitcher of water. 
But the unhappy child was half dead with fear, so much did 


Simon and the others terrify him. He spent the day in 
doing nothing; they gave him no light; this condition did 
as much harm to him morally as it did physically. It is not 
surprising that he fell into a fearful marasmus; the time 
that his health remained good and was able to resist such 
cruelties proves the strength of his constitution. 

They ** thee'd and thou'd " us much during the winter ; we 
despised all vexatious things, but this degree of coarseness 
always made my aunt and me blush. She performed her 
Lenten duties fully, though deprived of fast-day food. She 
took at dinner a bowl of coffee and milk (this was her break- 
fast which she kept over) ; in the evening she ate only a 
piece of bread. She ordered me to eat what was brought, 
not being old enough to bear abstinence, but as for her, noth- 
ing could be more edifying. From the time they refused her 
the &st-day food she never, on that account, n^lected the 
duties prescribed by religion. When the spring began they 
took away our tallow candle and we went to bed when we 
could see no longer. 

Until May 9th nothing remarkable happened. On that 
day, just as we were going to bed the bolts were withdrawn 
and some one knocked at our door. My aunt replied that 
she would put on her dress ; they answered that she must not 
be so long, and they rapped so hard that we thought the door 
would burst in. She opened it when she was dressed. They 
said to her : " Citoyenne, you will please come down." " And 
my niece?" '*"We will attend to her later." My aunt 
kissed me and told me to be calm for she would soon return. 
^ No, citoyerme, you will not return," they said to her ; ^ take 
your cap and come down." They loaded her then with in- 
sults and coarse speeches ; she bore it all with patience, took 
her cap, kissed me again, and told me to have courage and 
firmness, to hope always in Gk)d, to practise the good princi- 

282 MADAME Elisabeth de France. [1793-1795 

pies of religion given me by mj parents, and not to fail in 
the last instructions given to me bj my &ther and by my 

She went out ; at the foot of the stairs they asked for 
her pockets ; there was nothing in them ; this lasted a long 
time because the municipals had to write a procis-verbal for 
the discharge of her person. At last, after countless insults, 
she went away with the clerk of the tribunal, in a hackney- 
coach, and was taken to the Cionciergerie, where she passed 
the night. The nezt day they asked her three questions : — 

« Your name ? " " Elisabeth de Franca" 

*• Where were you on the 10th of August?" **In the 
chftteau of the Tuileries with the king, my brother." 

* What have you done with your diamonds ? " " I do not 
know. But all these questions are useless ; you want my 
death; I have made to God the sacrifice of my life, and I am 
ready to die — happy to rejoin my honoured relatives whom 
I loved so well on earth." 

They condenmed her to death. 

She made them take her to the room of those who were to 
die with her ; she exhorted all with a presence of mind, an ele- 
vation, an unction which strengthened them. On the cart she 
showed the same calmness, encouraging the women who were 
with her. At the foot of the scaffold they had the cruelty 
to make her wait and perish last. Ail the women on getting 
out of the cart asked permission to kiss her, which she gave, 
encouraging each of them with her usual kindness. Her 
strength did not abandon her at the last moment whidi she 
bore with a resignation full of religion. Her soul parted 
from her body to go and enjoy happiness in the bosom of the 
God she had loved. 

Marie-Philippine-£lisabeth-Hfl^ne, sister of King Louis 
XYI., died on the 10th of May 1794, aged thirty years, hav- 


ing always been a model of virtues. At the age of fifteen 
she gave herself to God and thought only of salvation. 
From 1790, when I became in a state to appreciate her I 
never saw anything in her but religion, love of God, horror 
of sin, gentleness, piety, modesty, and a great attachment to 
her family, for whom she sacrificed her life, being never wil- 
ling to leave the king and queen. She was a princess worthy 
of the blood of which she came. I cannot say enough of the 
goodness that she showed to me, which ended only with her 
lifa She considered me and cared for me as her daughter, 
and I, I honoured her as a second mother and vowed to her 
all those feelings. It was said that we resembled each other 
in face : I feel that I have her nature ; would that I might 
have all her virtues and rejoin her some day, also my father 
and mother, in the bosom of God, where, I doubt not, they 
are now enjoying the reward of a death so meritorious. 

I remained in great desolation when I felt myself parted 
from my aunt ; I did not know what had become of her, and 
no one would tell me. I passed a very cruel night : and yet, 
though I was very uneasy about her fate, I was far from 
thinking I should lose her in a few hours. Sometimes I 
persuaded myself that they would send her out of France ; 
then, when I recalled the manner in which they had taken 
her away, my fears revived. The next day I asked the muni- 
cipals where she was ; they said she had gone to take the air. 
I renewed my request to be taken to my mother, as I was 
parted from my a\mt ; they replied that they would speak of 
it. They came soon after and brought me the key of the 
closet in which my aunt kept her linen ; I asked them to send 
some to her, because she had taken none with her ; they told 
me they could not do so. 

Seeing that when I asked the municipals to let me go to 
my mother, or tell me news of my aunt they always replied 

284 MADABCE Elisabeth de prance. [1793-1795 

that thej would speak of it^ and remembering that my aunt 
had always told me that if I were left alone my duty was to 
ask for a woman, I did so, to obey her, but with great repug- 
nance, feeling sure they would refuse me, or give me some 
vile woman. Accordingly, when I made this request, the 
municipals told me that I needed no one. They redoubled 
their severity and took away from me the knives, which had 
been returned to me, saying : " Citoyenne, tell us, how many 
knives have you ? " " Only two, messieurs." •' Have you 
none for your toilet, nor scissors ? " " No, messieurs." An- 
other time they took away my tinder-box, having found die 
stove warm. They said : " May we know why you made that 
fire ? " « To put my feet in water." « How did you light 
it ? " " With the tinder." « Who gave you that ? " ''I do 
not know." " As a precaution we shall take it away for your 
safety, for fear you should fall asleep and bum from that 

Searches and scenes like these were frequent, but unless I 
was positively questioned I never spoke, nor did I to those 
who brought my food. There came a man one day, whom I 
think was Bobespierre ; the municipals showed great respect 
for him. His visit was a secret to all the persons in the 
Tower, who either did not know who he was, or would not 
tell ma He looked at me insolently, cast his eyes over my 
books, and after searching the room with the mimidpals 
went away. The Guards were often drunk; nevertheless, 
we were left alone and tranquU, my brother and I, in our 
separate apartments, until the 9th thermidor. 

My brother was still wallowing in filth; no one entered 
his room except at meal times ; no one had any pity on that 
unfortunate child. There was but one guard whose manners 
were civil enough to induce me to commend my poor brother 
to him. He dared to speak of the harshness shown to the 


child, and he was dismissed the next day. As for me, I 
asked for only simple necessaries, which were often refused 
to me harshly ; but at least I could keep myself clean, I had 
both soap and water. I swept the room every day. I 
finished doing it by nine o'clock when the Guards brought 
up my breakfast I had no light, but when the days were 
long I suffered less from that privation. They would no 
longer give me books; I had none but those of piety and 
travels which I had read a hundred times. I had some 
knitting, but that ennuy^d me very much. 

Such was our state when the 9th thermidor arrived. I 
heard the ginirale beaten and the tocsin rung ; I was very 
uneasy. The municipals in the Temple did not stir out 
When they brought my dinner I dared not ask what was 
happening. At last, on the 10th thermidor, at six o'clock in 
the morning, I heard a frightful noise in the Temple ; the 
Guard cried to arms, the drums beat, the gates were opened 
and shut All this uproar was occasioned by a visit from 
members of the National Assembly, who came to assure 
themselves that all was secure. I heard the bolts of my 
brother's door drawn back ; I flung myself from my bed and 
was dressed before the members of the Convention arrived 
in my room. Barras was among them. They were all in 
full costume, which surprised me, not being accustomed to 
see them thus, and being always in fear of something. 
Barras spoke to me, called me by name, and seemed surprised 
to find me risen. They said to me several things to which I 
made no reply. They went away, and I heard them harang- 
uing the Guards under the windows and exhorting them to 
be faithful to the National Convention. There were many 
cries of Vive la Bepublique ! Vive la OonverUion I The guard 
was doubled ; the three municipals who were in the Temple 
stayed there eight days. On the evening of the third day, 

286 MADAM£ Elisabeth de francb. [1793-1795 

at half-past nine o'clock, I was in my bed, having no lig^t, 
but not asleep, so anxious was I about what was happening. 
They knocked at my door to show me Laurent, commis^ 
sioner from the Convention, appointed to guard my brother 
and me. I rose ; they made a long visit, showed everything 
to Laurent and then went away. 

The next day at ten o'clock Laurent entered my room ; he 
asked me politely if I wanted anything. He came daily 
three times to see me, always with civility, and did not ^ thee 
and thou " me. He never searched my bureaus and closets. 
At the end of another three days the Convention sent a 
deputation to report upon my brother's state; these men 
had pity upon him and ordered that he should be better 
treated. Laurent took down a bed which was in my room, 
because the one he had was full of bugs; he made him 
take baths, and removed the vermin with which he was 
covered. Nevertheless, they still left him alone in his 

I soon asked Laurent about that which concerned me so 
keenly ; I mean news of my relations, of whose death I was 
ignorant, and I begged to be reunited with my modier. He 
answered me with a very pained air that the matter did not 
concern him. 

The next day came men in scarfs to whom I made the 
same appeal They also answered that the matter did not 
concern them, and said they did not see why I wanted to 
leave that place, where I seemed to be very comfortable. 
" It is dreadful," I said, " to be parted from one's mother for 
over a year without knowing anything about her, and also 
one's aunt" ** You are not ill ? " " No, monsieur, but the 
cruellest ilhiess is that of the heart." '* I teU you that we 
can do nothing ; I advise you to have patience, and to hope 
in the justice and goodness of Frenchmen." I said no 


more. I was alarmed the next day by the explosion at 
Orenelle^ which gave me a great fright 

During all this time mj brother was still left alone. 
Laurent went to him three times a day^ but, fearing to com- 
promise himself as he was watched, he dared not do more. 
He took much care of me ; and I had only to congratulate 
myself on his manners all the time he was on service. He 
often asked me if I needed nothing, and begged me to teU 
him what I wished and to ring if I wanted anything. He 
gave me back my match-box and candla 

Towards the end of October, at one o'clock in the mornings 
I was sleeping when they knocked at my door; I rose in 
haste, and, opened it, trembling with fear. I saw two men 
of tiie committee with Laurent; they looked at me, and 
went away without speaking. 

At the beginning of November came the civil commis- 
sioners ; that is to say, one man from each section, who 
passed twenty-four hours in the Temple to verify the exist- 
ence of my brother. During the first days of this month 
another commissioner, named Gtomier, arrived to be with 
Laurent He took extreme care of my brother. For a long 
time that unhappy child had been left without lights; he 
was dying of fear. Gomier obtained permission that he 
might have them ; he even passed several hours with him 
daily to amuse Imn. He soon perceived that my brother's 
knees and wrists were swelled; he feared he was growing 
rickety; he spoke to the committee and asked that the 
child might be taken to the garden for exercise. He first 
made him come down from his room into the little salon, 
which pleased my brother much because he liked a change 
of place. He soon perceived Gromier's attentions, was touched 
by them, and attached himself to him. The unhappy child 
had long been accustomed to none but the worst treat- 

288 MADAME Elisabeth de France. [1793-1795 

ment — for I believe that no researches can show such 
barbarity to any other child. 

On the 19th of December the committee-general came to 
the Temple in consequence of his illness. This deputation 
also came to me, but said nothing. The winter passed 
tranquilly enough. I was satisfied with the kiudness of 
my jailers ; they made my fire and gave me all the wood I 
needed, which pleased me. Also they brought me the 
books I asked for ; Laurent had already procured me some. 
My greatest unhappiness was that I could not obtain from 
them any news of my mother and aunt; I dared not ask 
about my uncles and my great-aunts, but I thought of them 

During the winter my brother had several attacks of 
fever ; he was always beside the fire. Laurent and Gk)mier 
induced him to go up on the Tower and get the air; but he 
was no sooner there than he wanted to come down; he 
would not walk, still less would he go upstairs. His illness 
increased, and his knees swelled much. Laurent went away, 
and in his place they put Lasne, a worthy man, who, with 
Gtomier, took the greatest care of my brother. 

At the opening of the spring they wanted me to go up on 
the Tower, which I did. My brother's illness grew worse 
and worse daily; his strength diminished; even his mind 
showed the effects of the harshness so long exercised 
towards him, and it gradually weakened. The Committee of 
Public Safety sent Dr. Desault to take care of him ; he un- 
dertook to cure him, though he admitted that his illness was 
very dangerous. Desault died, and they sent as his succes- 
sors Dumangin and the surgeon Pelletan. They saw no 
hope. They made him take medicines, which he swallowed 
with difficulty. Happily, his malady did not make him 
suffer much; it was debility and a total wasting away 


rather than acute pain. He had several distressing crises ; 
fever seized him, his strength lessened daily, and he expired 
without a struggle. 

Thus died, June 9, 1795, at three in the afternoon, Louis 
XYII., aged ten years and two months. The commissioners 
mourned him bitterly, so much had he made them love him 
for his gentle qualities. He had much intelligence; but 
imprisonment and the horrors of which he was the victim 
had changed him much; and even, had he lived, it is 
to be feared that his mental faculties would have been 

I do not think that he was poisoned, as was said, and is 
still said : that is false, from the testimony of the physicians 
who opened his body. The drugs he had taken in his last 
illness were analyzed and found to be safe. The only poison 
that shortened his life was uncleanness, joined to the hor- 
rible treatment, the imexampled harshness and cruelty 
exercised upon him. 

Such were the lives and the end of my virtuous family 
during their imprisonment in the Temple and elsewhere. 

Written in the Tower of the Templa 

pyfarie-Th^rfese de France was exchanged in October, 1795, 
for the four commissioners of the Convention delivered up 
to Austria by Dumouriez in Apnl, 1793. She left the Tower 
of the Temple during the night of December 18, 1795. 
That tragic building, — about which Marie-Antoinette ex- 
claimed on hearing where she and her family were about to 
be imprisoned : " How often I begged the Comte d'Artois to 
have that vile Tower of the Temple demolished I it was always 
a horror to me," — that monument to anguish was razed 
to the ground by order of Napoleon in 1811. UntU then 
could be read, scratched upon the wall of the room where 


290 MADAME £IJSABBTH D£ FRANCE. [179&-1795 

the childly Marie-Th^se^ lived her solitary life, these piteous 
words : — 

^ Marie-Th^i&se is the most unhappy creature in the 
world. She can obtain no news of her mother; nor be 
reunited to her, though she has asked it a thousand 

•* Live, my good mother ! whom I love well, but of whom 
I can hear no tidings." 

•' O my father ! watch over me from heaven above." 

^O my Grod! forgive those who have made my family 

She went from the Temple to Vienna, where she lived, 
against her ' will, three years and a half, resisting all 
attempts to make her marry the Archduke Charles of 
Austria. At last, in 1799, she was allowed to go to her 
uncle the Gomte de Provence (Louis XYIII.) at Mittau in 
Gourlande, where she soon after married her cousin the 
Due d'AngoulSme, son of the Comte d'Artois (Charles X.). 
Driven from Courlande with Louis XVIII. by the Emperor 
Paul, she followed her uncle through all his exiles to 
Memel, Kljnigsberg, Warsaw, again to Mittau, thence to 
Oodsfield Hall and HartweU in England. "She is the 
consoling angel of our master," wrote the Comte d'Avaray, 
'^and a model of courage for us." 

The portrait of her in this volume was painted by Dan- 
loux during the first months of her life in Vienna, when 
she was seventeen years of age. Its sorrowful expression 
deepened upon her face as the years went by until at last 
she became an ideal of Sorrow, and the coiurtiers of the 
Bestoration reproached her for her sadness and turned from 
her! But her courage remaiued. She was absent from 
the side of Louis XVIIL when the first Bestoration feU, 
but she made a gallant struggle to uphold the royal cause 


at Bordeaux where she then was. It was that straggle 
which led Napoleon to say of her that she was the only 
man of her family. 

Later, she was at Vichy in 1830, when Charles X. signed 
the ordinances which cost him his throne. From tiiat day 
imtQ her death, a period of twenty-one years, she lived in 
exile, at Holyrood, Prague, Qoritz, and Frohsdorf. Her hus- 
band's nephew, the Comte de Chambord, in whose behalf 
Charles X. and the Due d'AngoulSme abdicated, regarded 
her as a second mother, and she had a stronger influence 
over him than his own mother, the Duchesse de Berry. The 
last glimpse we have of her is at Frohsdorf in 1851, the year 
of her death, when the Comte de Falloux thus describes 
her: — 

^ Madame la Dauphine was, if I may so express it, pathos 
in person. Sadness was imprinted on her features and re- 
vealed in her attitude ; but, in the same d^ree, there shone 
about her an unalterable resignation, an unalterable gentle- 
ness. Even when the tones of her voice were brusque, 
which often happened, the kindness of her intention re- 
mained transparent She liked to pass in review the French- 
men she had known; she kept herself closely informed 
about their family events; she remembered the slightest 
details with rare fidelity: 'How Madame loves France!' 
I said to her one day. ' That is not surprising,' she replied. 
* I take it from my parents.' At Frohsdorf she was seated 
nearly the whole day in the embrasure of a certain window. 
She had chosen this window because of its outlook on copses 
which reminded her a little of the garden of the TuUeries ; 
and if a visitor wished to be agreeable to her, he remarked 
upon this resemblance." 

She died at Frohsdorf on the 18th of October, 1851, in the 
Beventy-third year of her age, and the twenty-first year of 

292 MADAME Elisabeth be fbance. [1793-1795 

her laflt exile. She was buried at Goritz^ in the chapel of 
the Franciscans, between C!harles X. and her husband, the 
Due d'Angoul^me. On her tombstone are carved these 
words : vos omnes qui transitis per viam, attendite et videte 
91 est dolor sicut dolor rnevs. 


Bt C-A. SAnm-BxuTB. 


Bt C.-A. Sauvtb-Bbuts. 

NoTember 3, 1861. 

In coming rather late and after aU the other oigans of 
publicity to render homage to a lofty virtue and a vast 
misfortune, I can only repeat, more or less, what has 
already been said and felt by alL There is one point of 
view, however, — if such an expression is permissible in 
presence of a figure so simple and true, so alien to all 
pompous attitude, — there is one point of view which we 
will here take especially for ours. 

All suffers change; all dies or renews itself; the oldest 
and the most revered races have their end; nations them- 
selves before they fall and end have their several ways of 
being successive, they take on divers forms of government 
in their diverse epochs; what was religion and fidelity in 
one age is only a monument and commemoration of the 
past in another; but through all (so long as vitiation does 
not come) something remains, namely: human nature and 
the natural sentiments that distinguish it, respect for vir- 
tue, for misfortune, especially if undeserved and innocent, and 
pity, which itself is piety towards Gtod in so far as it turns 
towards human sorrow. 

In speaking of Madame la Duchesse d'Angouldme it is to 
all those sentiments, apart from politics, that I address my- 
self, — to the sensitive and durable side of our being. 

The feature that stands out in this long life of suffering, 
of martyrdom in her early years and always of convulsion 

296 MADAME Elisabeth de fbance. [irrs-issi 

and vicissitudes^ is perfect trath, perfect simplicity, and, it 
may be said, entire and unalterable consistency. That up- 
right soul, just and noble, was early fixed and established, 
and at no moment later did it vacillate. It was fixed during 
the very years that are for youth the age of lightsomeness, 
oi joy, of budding bloom, during those three years and four 
months of captivity in the Tower of the Temple when she 
saw die, one after another, her father, her mother, her 
aunt, her brother. She entered that place before she was 
fourteen years old, she left it the day she was seventeen. At 
that age she had not acquired the marked and rather strong 
features by which we have known her. The portrait we have 
of her soon after this period in the Temple, with the hair 
negligently knotted, has delicacy in its outline, and noble- 
ness and gravity without excess. Misfortune, while weighing 
upon that forehead, has not yet drawn there the furrow which 
appeared a few years later and gave her, as she grew older, 
more and more resemblance to Louis XYI. 

But at the close of this year, 1795, though the outward 
presence still retained much of its early youth, the soul was 
mature, it was formed and disciplined. In its depths that 
strong and healthy organization had been attacked. The 
liver suffered and was injured. This tender young slip of a 
long and illustrious race was blighted, perhaps withered even 
in its future shoots. If we may dare to form an idea of 
these mysteries of sorrow, it seems to me that on leaving the 
Temple both the life and the soul of Madame Boyale were 
finished, completed in all essential things ; they were closed 
to the future ; all their sources, all their roots were hence- 
forth in the past. Our heart, let it have had but one day in 
life, fixes or recalls the emotions of a certain hour that we 
hear strike for us whenever we re-enter our inner selves 
and dream there. The Duchesse d'Angouldme, who never 

1778-1851] THE DUCHESSE D'ANGOULfiMB. • 297 

dreamed but who prayed, when she retreated within herself 
(though she did not retreat, for she lived there), heard that 
hour strike on the clock of the Temple for the death-knell 
of her parents. 

She has related the history of her captivity and the events 
happening in the Temple from the day she entered there 
until the day of her brother's death, and she has done it in 
a simple, correct, concise style, without one word too much, 
without one wrought-up phrase, as became an upright mind 
and a deep heart speaking in all sincerity of true sorrows, 
sorrows truly inefifable, which surpassed all that words could 
telL She forgets herself as much as she can, and she stops 
her narrative at the death of her brother, — the last of the four 
immolated victims. Let us say more of her here than she 
has said of herself. 

Marie-Th^rfese-Charlotte de France, bom December 19, 
1778, was the first child of Louis XVI. and Queen Marie- 
Antoinette. Seven years had elapsed since the queen's mar- 
riage, when she one day informed the persons in her private 
circle of her first joy as a wife and her future hopes. About 
one year later she gave birth to Madame Eoyale. Although 
until then Louis XVL's timidity towards his young wife had 
been extreme, his passion from that moment was not less so, 
and this child, the first fruits of it, was to a great degree his 
image. Kindness, integrity, all the solid and virtuous quali- 
ties of her father were transmitted straight to Madame's 
heart, and Marie-Antoinette, with all her grace, could not 
hinder a little of that roughness of gesture and accent which 
covered the virtues of Louis XVI. from slipping into the 
wholly frank nature of his child. Also, she forgot to trans- 
mit to her that which women have so readily — a desire to 
please and the dawning charm of coquetry, even the most 
innocent and permissible. Of that, Madame Boyale had no 

298 IfADAME £lISABBTH DE FBANCE. [1778-^18S1 

idea, and no conception. Or if, in the beginning, some trifle 
of it mingled in her blood, that little disappeared completely 
in the trials of a childhood and a youth so oppressed, so 
desolate. In order to comprehend the Duchesse d' Angouldme, 
we must never cease to remember that all that calls itself 
springtide joy and bloom, that joyous and bewitching as- 
pect under which, on entering life, we so naturally see all 
things, was suppressed and early blighted in her. Her soul, 
scarcely in its first dawn, was suddenly reduced and worn, as 
it were, to its woof, — but a solid indestructible woof, which 
resisted and grew stronger under all assaults, fortifying itself 
by tears, by prayers, but casting far away from it, as if it 
were the equal of a lie, all that might have been grace and 
ornament. In truth, for her who had wept true tears, and 
never ceased to weep them, it would have been a lie. 

Though she seems in her nature to have derived from her 
father more than from her mother, there is one virtue at least 
that she held through the latter, which was lacking in that 
poor Louis XYI. to save him : I mean firmness, the courage 
to act in decisive moments. In her august and modest life, 
in general so aloof from political questions, the Duchesse 
d'AngoulSme found, once at least at Bordeaux, an opportunity 
to show that she had in her that courage of action which 
came to her from her mother and from her grandmother, 
Maria Theresa. And again, in 1830, when she rejoined the 
royal family at Bambouillet (after the faults were committed), 
her first impulsion was, as in 1815 at Bordeaux, to resist and 

She was not eleven years old when, with the terrible days 
of October, 1789, her public r6le beside her mother began. 
She was made to appear on a balcony and retire from it at 
the bidding of a furious populace ; and in that flux and reflux 
of the popular storm, of which she strove to divine the mean- 

1778-1851] THE DUCHESSE D'ANGOUL£mE. 299 

ingy she felt but one thing, — the clasp of her mother's hand, 
which pressed her against herself with the chill of death. 

At that time, in the confines of the Tuileries to which the 
royal family was restricted, she received from her mother, 
now becoming more and more grave, from her noble Aunt 
Elisabeth, and from her father, the lessons of a practical and 
solid instruction and examples of an unalterable domestic 
religion. She was brought-up within that domesticity like a 
child of the most united and purest of noble families, but 
with mortal terrors added, and with agonies by day and night. 
It was in that long series of terrors, enigmas, and painful 
nightmares that the years and the dreams of girlhood, usually 
so lightsome, were passed. 

On entering the Temple, there was no more enigma, the 
veil was rent away completely. Henceforth the world to her 
was sharply divided in two — the good and the wicked : the 
wicked, that is to say, all that human imagination in times 
of peace and social regularity scarcely dares to present 
nakedly to itself, — brutality in all its coarseness and degra- 
dation, vice and envy in all the ignoble drunkenness of their 
triumph; the good, that is to say, a few touched, pitying, 
timid souls, softening the evil secretly and concealing their 

That the young heart of Madame Boyale did not take 
from that hour an undyiug hatred, a contempt unchangeable, 
for the human race, that she preserved her purity of soul, 
her faith, her trust in good, was owing to the divine examples 
and the help she had around her, especially in her Aunt 
Slisabeth, that celestial person; it was owing to religion, 
clearly defined and practical, at which no questioning mind 
can ever have the right to smile, because it alone has the 
power to sustain and to console under such sorrows. One 
day (April 20, 1793) the wretch Hubert with other munici- 

300 MADAME l^ISABETH DE FBAIUCE. [1778-1851 

pals came to the Tower at ten at nighty after the prisoners had 

gone to bed. " We rose hastily," says Madame Boyale 

" My poor brother was asleep ; they pulled him roughly from 
his bed to search it. . . . They took from my mother the 
address of a shop, from my Aunt lilisabeth a stick of sealing- 
wax, and from me a Sacred Heart of Jesus and a Prayer for 

That Sacred Heart of Jesus and that Prayer for France 
were closer bound together than would seem at first; and 
perhaps she needed all her faith in the one to be able at that 
moment to pray for the other. 

It has sometimes been said that the Duchesse d'An- 
goulSme felt a rancour against France, and that when she 
returned in 1814, and again in 1815, she showed that feeling 
involuntarily in several of her remarks ; as for acts, it would 
be impossible to find any for which to blame her. But the 
persons who knew her best, and who are most worthy of 
belief, declare that all such feelings were very far from being 
hers. She was frank and sincere; she was even a little 
harsh and brusque in manner, like her father. Incapable 
of an evil thought, but also of an insincerity, if she did not 
like you it was impossible for her to say to you or let you 
think the contrary. ^'She was a most loyal gentleman," 
some one said of her to me, ^'who was never false." She 
loved her friends, she forgave her enemies; but if, in the 
religion of her race and her misfortunes, she believed there 
were faithful and unfaithful, good men and wicked men, can 
we wonder ? 

The narrative she has given of the events of the Temple 
was written in it, during the last months of her imprison- 
ment, when there was some relaxation of extreme severity. 
In this precise, methodical, sensible, and touching narrative 
Madame d'AngoulSme gives the measure of her ^precocious 

177ft-l851] THE DUCHESSE D'ANGOULfiME. 301 

reason, and of her good judgment in things of the sonL She 
shows herself greatly struck by the dignity of her mother, 
who, to the speeches of various kinds addressed to the noble 
captives, answered oftenest by silence. ''My mother, as 
usual, said nothing," writes Madame, in regard to an insult- 
ing piece of news announced to them, which the queen had 
the air of not hearing ; often her contemptuous calmness and 
her dignified bearing awed those men ; it was rarely to her 
that they addressed themselves. 

It was not until the first day of Louis XYI.'s trial, when 
she saw him taken away to be interrogated at the bar of the 
Convention, — it was not until that day that Marie-Antoinette 
succumbed to her anxiety and broke her noble silence : " My 
mother tried in every way to learn what was happening from 
the municipals who guarded her ; it was the first time she 
had deigned to question them." 

In this simple narrative, which no one can read without 
tears, there are touches that make a profound impression, of 
which the pen that wrote them had no suspicion. Madame 
has had a trouble in her foot (chilblains, as a result of the 
cold), complicated with some internal illness. During this 
time Louis XYI. is condemned. His family, who hoped to see 
him once more, to embrace him on the morning of his death, 
is left in a desolation we can well conceive. 

** Nothing," writes Madame, " was able to calm my mother's 
anguish ; we could make no hope of any sort enter her heart ; 
she was indifferent whether she lived or died. She looked 
at us sometimes with a pity that made us shudder. Hap- 
pily, grief increased my illness and that occupied her." 

Happily! — that word slipping unconsciously into this 
picture of sorrow has an effect that no word of Bossuet's 
could equal 

It was in reflecting on these dolorous scenes of the Temple 


that M. de Chateaubriand (not to confound him, however, 
as some too often do, with Bossuet) said in ^ Atala : " ^ The 
dweller in a cabin, and those in palaces, all suffer, and all 
moan here below ; queens have been seen to weep like simple 
women, and men wonder at the quantity of tears that flow 
from the eyes of kings." 

A popular poet alluding to that celebrated passage, but 
continuing to keep in opposition the classes, writes : — 

" In the eye of a king the tears can be reckoned. 

The eyes of the people are too fall of tears for that.** 

The sense of opposition of that kind will nev^ come, I 
am very certain, to whoso reads the simple. Christian, human 
narrative of Madame Boyale in the Temple. All spirit of 
party disarms itself and dies as we read it ; there is room for 
nothing but compassion and the deepest admiration. Gentle- 
ness, piety, and virgin modesty inspire these pages of the 
shocked and insulted young girL She spent alone with her 
Aunt lilisabeth the winter of 93-94 ** They iuioySd us much 
during the winter," she says. *' We despised all vexations^ 
but this last coarseness always made my aunt and me blush." 

The most cruel moment for her was that when, after the 
death of her father, after the disappearance of her mother 
and her aunt, ignorant of the actual fate of those dear heads, 
she heard in the distance, during the weeks that preceded 
the 9th thermidor, the voice of her brother, already a prey 
to the corrupters, singing the atrocious songs taught biTn by 
Simon, the shoemaker. 

'' As for me," she says, " I only asked for simple necessaries ; 
often they were refused to me harshly. But at least I could 
keep myself clean ; I had soap and water ; I swept my room 
daily, and I finished by nine o'clock when the guard brought 
my breakfast I had no light, but during the long days I 

1778-1851] THE DUCHESSE lyANGOUL^ME. 303 

suffered less from that privation. They would not give me 
books, I had only some of piety and travels which I had read 
a hundred times." 

At last the Convention, after the 9th thermidor, softened in 
severity ; public opinion made itself heard, and pity dared to 
murmur. One of the commissioners, whose duty it was to 
visit the young princess in the Temple, has left a representa- 
tion of her in her seemly attitude, suffering and poverty- 
stricken, seated by the window knitting, and far from the fire 
(there was not light enough for her work near the chimney), 
her hands swollen with cold and covered with chilblains, for 
they did not give her wood enough to warm the room at any 
distance. This was the first time attention was shown to 
her or any desire to soften her fate. Her first impulse was 
to be incredulous, silent, and to refuse all offers. To a ques- 
tion which the commissioners put to her as to her books, 
which consisted of the ^ Imitation of Jesus Christ " and a 
few other books of devotion, saying that they were scarcely 
sufficient to amuse her, ** Those books, monsieur," she re- 
plied, ^ are precisely the ones that suit my situation." 

The period which came between the 9th thermidor, July 
27, 1794, and the deliverance of the princess in the last days 
of 1795, was that in which a whole royalist literature at- 
tempted to burst forth around her. Sentimental songs were 
made and sung to her from a distance, the echoes of which 
told her that henceforth friends were watching over her fate. 
Odes were written on the goat and the dog she was allowed 
at the very last to have, and which, from neighbouring win- 
dows, were seen with her in the garden. The Duchesse 
d'Angoul6me has been, or rather could have been, the centre 
of a \^hole contemporaneous literature, of which we can fol- 
low the trace, from the song of M. Lepitre, sung beneath the 
walls of the Temple, and the novel of ** Irma, or the Sorrows 

304 MADAME Elisabeth de fbance. [nrs-issi 

of a Young Orphfln " (published hj Mme. Gu&iard in ihe 
yeax VIIL), to the " Antigone " of Ballanche, which more 
nobly crowned that allegorical and mythological literature in 
1815. But one distinctive trait in her was to remain com- 
pletely aloof from this rather tardy inyasion of public senti- 
mentality. It is to her honour that she never^ in the slightest 
degree, suffered literature, romance, drama, to enter the 
sanctuary, veiled forever, of her sorrow. **! do not like 
scenes," she said one day, a little brusquely, to a woman who 
threw herself on her knees before her to thank her for some 

Scenes I she had seen too many scenes, too awfully real, 
to endure the mere image of them. The deep sincerity of 
her mourning and of her filial affection had in this direction 
the same effect we should expect of the most enlightened 
and severe good taste. All this literature, more or less over- 
pitched, and in the style of Mme. Cottin, which accumulated 
round the youth of Madame Boyale, evidently never touched 
her ; and the Narrative she wrote in 1795 of the events of 
the Temple will be the touchstone by which to judge of all 
these other narratives and false descriptions, could they even 
be brought into comparison. She proved her great good 
sense in her utmost sorrow. 

When she leaves France, in Vienna, at Mittau, where they 
marry her to her cousin, everywhere, in the diverse exiles 
where fortune tosses her, she is still the same ; the life of 
the Temple is there, like a background to her oratory, domi- 
nating each day and dictating to her the employment of it. 
Submissive to her uncle, in whom she sees both a king and a 
father, she thinks only of reuniting all her faiths, all her 
religions, and of practising them faithfully. 

A most touching scene in her life is well related by one of 
her biographers (M. Nettement) ; it occurred at Mittau in 


May, 1807, when she nuised and assisted till his end the 
Abbd Edgeworth de Firmont, the priest who had accompanied 
Louis XVL to the scaffold. A contagious fever broke out 
among the French prisoners brought to Mittau by the events 
of the war. The Abb^ Edgeworth, in taking care of them, con- 
tracted the disease, a species of typhus ; and it was under these 
extreme circumstances that Madame d'AngoulSme would not 
abandon him. ^ The less knowledge he has of his needs and 
his condition," she said, *' the more the presence of a friend 
is necessary to him, . . . Nothing can prevent me from nurs- 
ing the Abb^ Edgeworth myself ; I ask no one to accompany 
me.'' She wished to return to him, as much as it was in her 
to do so, that which he had carried of consolation and suc- 
cour to Louis XVL when dying. She lived and dwelt con- 
tinually in that line of thought, without being distracted 
from it for a single day. 

Did Madame d'Angouldme ever have a single day of real 
happiness after her issue from the Temple ? Was there ever 
place in that heart, saturated with anguish in her tenderest 
years, for one unalloyed and veritable joy ? It wouldbe strange 
if, in spite of all, she did not feel one, like an unexpected, 
gushing spring, during the great moments of 1814, — that 
year which must have seemed to her at every step a startling 
testimony to the wonders of Providence. Nevertheless, this 
sort of exaltation, if she felt it, could not have survived the 
events of Bordeaux and the new and bitter proof she there 
obtained of human frailty and unfaithfulness. 

She was, as every one knows, at Bordeaux at the moment 
when Napoleon's landing in Provence from Elba (March 
1815) became known. Madame d'AngoulSme, obeying the 
impulsion of her maternal blood, had the idea of resistance, 
and to organize it she did all that we should expect from so 
noble and virile a character. The opinion of the city was 


306 MADAME Elisabeth de francs. [i778>i85i 

wholly favourable and devoted to her ; but the troops in garri- 
son seemed doubtful from the moment that the great captain 
and his eagles reappeared. Nevertheless, she (although 
warned by the generals), she could not believe that their 
fidelity was doubtful, because, only the evening before, she 
had received from these very men, whom she considered 
heroes, reiterated homage and oaths of fidelity. 

The historians of the Bestoration have veiy well related 
those scenes in which Madame d'AngoulSme figures, and 
they all agree in praising her active courage and her bearing. 
She went through the barracks ; she strove to electrify the 
soldiers, she piqued their honour — but it was all of no use ; 
she found hearts closed against her, captured again by the 
old love. At the moment of leaviog, after exhausting all 
efforts, she turned to the generals who had followed her, and 
said that she counted upon them to at least guarantee the 
inhabitants of Bordeaux agaiost all reaction. ^'We swear 
it ! " cried the generals, raising their hands. '' I do not ask 
you for oaths," she said, with a gesture of disdainful pity ; 
" enough have been made to me, I want no more." Those 
haughty words she had the right to say ; surely few persons 
have seen with their eyes how far the malignancy or the 
instability of men can go. 

Mirabeau said of Marie-Antoinette, ^The king has but 
one man, and that is his wifa" The Duchesse d'AngoulSme 
deserves the speech of a like nature which Napoleon made 
about her conduct at Bordeaux. Such praises, even though 
they may be slightly exaggerated, serve as indications from 
afar and are registered in history. 

The second Bestoration could bring her no elation; on 
entering the Tuileries she saw Fouch^, a regicide, made the 
king's minister. Her upright and inviolable conscience could 
not admit for a single moment such monstrous compromises, 

177&-1851] THE DUGHESSE lyANGOULfiME. 307 

which policy itself finds it difficult to imderstaiid and which, 
most assuredly, it did not require. After that moment in 
1815, we never meet Madame d'Angoul^me again in any 
political action, properly so called ; her whole after life was 
domestic and inward. 

I have questioned, in regard to her, men who approached 
her constantly, and this is what they teU me. Each day was 
alike to her, except the funereal days of her sorrowful anni- 
versaries. She rose very early, at half-past five o'clock for 
example ; she heard mass for herself alone between six and 
seven. It is conjectured that she took the communion often, 
but she was never seen to do so, except on the great days occa- 
sionally. No solemnity, no formal preparations; she was 
only a humble Christian doing a religious act ; she did dis- 
creetly and scCTctly saintly things. 

In the early morning she attended to the care of her room, 
in the Tuileries almost as she did in the Temple. 

She never spoke of the painful and bleeding things of her 
youth, unless to a veiy few persons in her intimacy. The 
21st of January and the 16th of October, the death days 
of her father and mother, she shut herself up alone, sometimes 
sending, to help her in passing the cruel hours, for some person 
with whom she was in harmony of mourning and piety, — 
the late Mme. de Pastoret, for example. 

She was charitable to a degree that no one knows, and 
which it is hard to fathom ; those who were best informed as 
to her alms and other deeds were constantly discovering 
others, which came up, it were, as from underground, and of 
which they knew nothing. In that she was of the true and 
direct lineage of Saint Louis. 

Her life was very regular and very simple, whether in the 
Tuileries or elsewhere in exila The conversation around 
her was always very natural At moments, when misfortune 

308 MADAME l^USABBTH DE TRANCE. [1776-1851 

made trace for a while, it was noticed that she had in her 
mind or in her nature a certain gaiety, of which, alas ! she 
could make too little usage. Still, on her best days and in 
privacy she would let herself go, if not to saying, at least to 
hearing, things that were gay. When she felt herself in safe 
and friendly regions a certain pleasantry did not frighten her, 
and when on festivals she was expected to order plays for 
her theatre she did not choose the most serious. 

Even amid the habit of paiu there rose to the surface a 
sort of joy, such as comes to tried and austere souls, whom 
religion has guided and consoled throughout all time. 

Politics were not for her; she did not like public affairs. 
No influence affected her. Her policy, which if it came from 
herself would have been judicious, was ruled completely by 
the desires of the king. She thought that when the king 
decidedly wished anything it was not permissible to resist it, 
however good a royalist one might be. MM. de Yill^le and 
Gorbi^res in resisting the king displeased her quite as much 
as the liberals themselves could have done. 

She was educated, in the style of the instruction of Louis 
XVI. ; she read books of history, travels, morality, and re- 
ligion. If her reading lacked that which is vivifying in a 
worldly and literary sense, in the political and profane 
sense, if the breath and the intelligence of the new epoch 
never crossed the lines of her horizon, can we wonder at 
it ? can we pity her for it ? did she not gain far more than 
she lost through her fixed faith and the stability of her 
confidence in Heaven? 

The letters that are quoted as hers, and probably all those 
that she wrote, are simple, sensible, a little stiff and dry, and 
presenting nothing remarkable. 

Few good sayings of hers have been repeated, although 
her heart occasionally suggested one. Apropos of the war 

1778-1851] THE DUCHESSE D'ANGOTTLfiME. 309 

in Spain^ when she heard of the deliverance of King Fer- 
dinand by a French army, she exclaimed : *' So it is proved 
that an unfortunate king can be saved ! " 

During her last exile at Frohsdorf she was visited (De- 
cember, 1848) by a French traveller, M. Charles Didier, 
who ventured to say to her: ''Madame, it is impossible 
that you should not see in the fall of Louis-Philippe the 
finger of God." *' It is in all things," she replied with 
simplicity, but also with a tact which came from religion, 
and from the heart as welL 

It was the same moral delicacy which, in her union with 
the Due d'Angouldme made her constantly ignore what 
there was of inequality between them. She took pains to 
put him forward on the front line, — a delicacy the more 
real because it was never known whether she was con- 
scious of it. 

I have told the class of sentiments to which we must 
limit ourselves in seeking her and admiring her. Do not 
ask of that soul, so early wounded and despoiled, either co- 
quetiy of mind or the lighter graces. She would have 
thought it pro&nation and indeed a sacrilege to have 
made her sorrows and those of her parents, her virtue 
and the respectful interest she inspired, a means of policy, 
success, or attraction for what she believed to be the '' good 
cause." She would have blamed herself for so doing be- 
fore God; and when the memory of all that she had lost 
came back to her she could only veil herself and withdraw 
into her soul with sobs and tears. 

Enough said to indicate that august nature, that none 
have been tempted to misconceive: solidity, good sense, 
kindness, a certain background, as I have said, of gaiety, 
and a perfect simpUcity, — those are the chief traits which 
composed tliat nature. Beligion with charity placed upon 

310 iiADAicE Elisabeth de France. [m8-i85i 

it a seal sublime. Her religion was the most unifonn, the 
most practical, and absolutely foreign to all effect on others 
and all worldly considerations. No one ever bore more 
simply, naturally, or with more Christianity a greater 

The Duchesse d'Angoulfime died at Frohsdorf October 
19, 1851, aged seventy-three years and four months, and 
in the twenty-first year of her last exile. Her preceding 
eziLe lasted eighteen years (not counting the Hundred 
Days). They were preceded by imprisonment in the 
Temple for three years, and a forced confinement in the 
Tuileries in the midst of riot and dauger for three more. 
That was the frame of this destiny of sorrow and sacrifice, 
on which Antiquity would have shed its poesy and its 
idealism, while we see only its inner beauty, half-veiled, 
as becomes Christianity. 



In 1792 the Commune of Yersailles took possesoion of Madame 
Elisabeth's much loved Montreuil, which was thenceforth called 
the "Maison d'^lisabeth Capet.'' Seals were placed upon it 
until inventories were made and the property in it sold by the 
agents of the National Domain. After that it was let to various 
persons, and used for various purposes imtil finally it fell into a 
state of dilapidation and was sold, on the 6th of May, 1802, as a 
National domain by the Commune of Yersailles to Citizen Jean- 
Michel-Maximilien YiUers, living in Paris, rue de I'Universit^ 
No. 269, for the sum of 75,900 francs. 

Some of Madame ij^lisabeth's servants remained on the place 
for a time to take care of it for their new masters. But her 
faithful Jacques Boeson and his wife, who had charge of the cows 
and dairy, being obnoxious to the revolutionaries on account of 
their nationality (Swiss), were thrown into prison, where, being 
foreigners and friendless, they languished for some years. Among 
the archives of Yersailles is a pathetic letter to the municipality 
dated March 7, 1793, from one of Madame Elisabeth's servants 
asking for food for her dogs; he says they are three large dogs, 
and he no longer has the means to feed them. The cows were 
sold, the hens died for want of care, the garden was torn up and 
devastated, the fruit stolen. 

Some of the inventories of the property (made by order of the 
Department of National Domain in October, 1792) are very inter- 
esting, especially those of the garden and grounds, and of the 
library. There were 487 plants in the greenhouses, of 145 different 
species. Of these 35 were orange-trees, and 15 pomegranates. 
Many of the plantB, the Latin names of which are given, are choice 
varieties of their kind even at the present day* 

312 AFFEKDIX L [1799 

In the nuneiy grounds were 14 kinds of young trees and shrabB; 
1413 in all; of which 300 were Scotch pines, 250 ash-leaved 
maples, 150 Arbres de SainU-Lucie [t] spireas^ dogwoods^ 
syringas, lilacs, cherries, etc. 

The library contained 2075 yolumes; a remarkable collection 
for that period, with a wide outlook in history, memoirs, biog- 
raphy, and essays on the political condition of France. Of 
history, there were 406 volumes, among them Hume's England, 
Bobertson's Scotland, Gibbon's Koman Empire, histories of all 
the countries of Europe, of Constantinople, Japan, the Ottoman 
Empire, Arabia, Siam, etc. Of memoirs and biography, 203 
volumes. These were chiefly French, beginning with Yillehardouin 
and coming down to Mme. de Staal-Delaunay and the Letters of 
Mme. de Pompadour. There were many classics, chiefly trans- 
lated; the Bible in 31 volumes; all the great poems (among them 
"Le Paradis Perdu") and the chief French dramatists; also 42 
volumes of Fairy tales; the Arabian Nights, Bobinson Crusoe, 
and a small, a very small sprinkling of novels. But most inter- 
esting of all are the books she bought in the last year of her living 
life, before the tomb of the Temple closed upon her. Among 
them were: — 

Beflections on the Bevolution in France by Mr. Burke, 1791. 

Speeches and Letters of Mr. Burke, 1790, 1791. 

The Constitution of England. 

Bights and Duties of a Citizen. 

Political Situation of France, and its present Belations with all 
the Powers of Europe, 1789. 

The Evil and its Bemedy ; Memorial on the Militia of the Army, 

The True Patriot. 

The King's Household: what it was, what it is, and what it 
should be, 1789. 

Principles opposed to the System of M. Necker, by M. de Favras, 

Present situation of France, 1791. 

The Naviget atUyciras, or System without Principles, 1791. 

The reign of Louis XYI. placed before the Eyes of Europe, 

1794] APPENDIX n. 313 

ImpulBo of the Heart and Mind, or Justice rendered to the 
Queen, 1791. 
Plan for a Free and Happy Constitution, 1790. 

Among a mass of papers preserved in the archives of Versailles, 
sad and sorrowful reading as they are, there is one amusing little 
record of Madame Elisabeth's extravagance in a detail of dress. It 
is a bill of her shoemaker, named Bourbon, rue Neuve des Augus- 
tins, Paris, for shoes supplied to her nearly every other day from 
April 6, 1792, to June 30, a short three months; never more than 
two pairs at a time were sent, and the dates are given. There were 
21 sendings and 32 pairs of silk shoes [taffetat'] : 16 pairs of black, 
5 pairs of gray, 3 of blue, 2 of russet, 2 of puce, and one each of 
Carmelite and green — all of silk. It is true that Madame Elisabeth 
mentions having walked for three or four hours in the garden, and 
speaks of " the shocking mud, " erotte indigne^ so perhaps it is no 
wonder that silk shoes lasted only two days. 


First Examination of Madame Misabeth by Fouquier- 
TinviUe, May 9, 1794. From the Official Record. 

This day, twentieth flor^al, year two of the Bepublic, before 
Antoine-Quentin Fouquier . . • we have asked the name, age, 
profession, place of birth, and residence of ]^llisabeth Marie Capet, 
sister of Louis Capet, age thirty, bom at Versailles. 

Q. Did you conspire with the late tyrant against the safety 
and liberty of the French people 7 

A. I am ignorant to whom yon give that title ; but I have 
never desired anything but the happiness of the French people. 

Q. Have you maintained correspondence with the internal and 
external enemies of the Bepublic, especially with the brothers of 
Capet and yourself 7 and have you furnished them help in money t 

A. I have known none but those who loved France. I have 

314 APPENDIX n. [1794 

never fnmislied help to my brothers; and sinoe the month of 
Angnst, 1792, I have receiyed no news of them, nor have I sent 
them any. 

Q. Did you not send them diamonds t 

A. No. 

Q. I call your attention to the fact that your answer is not 
correct as to the diamonds, inasmuch as it is notorious that you 
sent your diamonds to be sold in Holland and other foreign coun- 
tries, and that you sent their proceeds, by your agents, to your 
brothers, to help them in maintaining their rebellion against the 
French people. 

A* I deny the charge, because it is false. 

Q. I call you to notice that in the trial which took place in 
November, 1792, relatively to the theft of diamonds made from 
the cp^kvarU crown property, it was established and proved that a 
portion of the diamonds with which you formerly adorned your- 
self came from there, and it was also proved that the price for 
which they were sold was sent to your brothers by your orders; 
that is why I summon you to explain yourself categorically on 
those facts. 

A. I am ignorant of the thefts of which you speak* I was 
at that period in the Temple, and I persist in my previous 

Q. Did you not have knowledge that the journey determined 
upon by your brother, Louis Capet^ and Antoinette, to Saint- 
Cloud on April 18; 1791, was imagined only to seize the occasion 
to leave France t 

A. I had no knowledge of that journey further than that my 
brother wished for change of air, not feeling welL 

Q. Was it not at your solicitation and that of Antoinette, your 
sister-in-law, that Capet fled from Paris on the night of the 
20th of June, 1791 f 

A. I learned during the day of June 20 that we should start 
that night, and I conformed in that matter to the orders of my 

Q. The motive of that journey was it not to leave France and 
unite yourselves with the imigria^ and the enemies of the French 
people t 

1794] AFFENDES: IL 315 

A. Never did my brother, or I, have any intention of quitting 
onr country. 

Q. I obflerre to you that that answer does not seem correct^ 
for Bouill^ had given orders for several bodies of troops to be at a 
point agreed upon to protect your escape, and enable you, your 
brother, and others to leave French territory. 

A. My brother was on his way to Montm^dy, and I never 
knew him to have any other intentions. 

Q. Have you knowledge of the secret conferences held in the 
apartments of Antoinette, ci-devant queen, with those who called 
themselves the Austrian committee t 

A. I have perfect knowledge that none such were ever held* 

Q. I call you to observe that it is, nevertheless, notorious that 
they were held between midnight and three in the morning, and 
those who attended them passed through what was then called the 
Oallery of Pictures. 

A. I have no knowledge of it. 

Q. What did you do on the night of the 9th and 10th of 
August, 17921 

A. I remained in my brother's room; we did not go to bed 
that night. 

Q. I call your attention to the fact that, having each your sepa- 
rate apartments, it seems strange that you should collect in that of 
your brother ; no doubt that meeting had a motive, which I call 
upon you to explain* 

A* I had no other motive than to be always near my brother 
when there was disturbance in Paris. 

Q. That night did you not go, with Antoinette, into a hall 
where the Swiss Guard were making cartridges, and especially 
were you not there between nine and ten o'clock that night t 

A. I was not there, and I have no knowledge of that hall. 

Q. I request you to observe that your answer is not correct; it 
has been proved at several trials, that Antoinette and you went 
several times in the night to the Swiss Guards, that you made 
them drink, and urged them to continue the making of cartridges, 
several of which Antoinette bit off herself. 

A. That never happened; I have no knowledge of it* 

Q. I represent to you that the facts are too notorious for you 




not to remember them, and not to know the motive which assem- 
bled troops of all kinds at the Tuileries that night. That is why 
I again summon you to declare if yon still persist in your denials, 
and in forgetting the motives for this assembling of troops. 

A. I persist in my denials, and I add that I know no motives 
for that assemblage. I know only, as I have already said, that 
the constituted bodies charged with the safety of Paris, came to 
warn my brother that there was an uprising in the faubourgs, and 
on that the National Guard assembled for his safety, as the Con- 
stitution prescribed. 

Q. At the time of the escape of the 20th of June, 1791, was 
it not you who brought out the children t 

A. No; I came out alone. 

Beading being made to her of the present interrogatories, she 
persisted in her replies, and signed with us and the clerk. 


DELiiGB, DucBAY, Clerk. 

Boi^if^ c^fi^. 

1793] AfPBMDIZ m. 317 


Extract from the Deliberations of the Commissioners of the 
Commv/M on the Service of the Temple, 

December 22, 1702, Tear L of the Repablic. 

At six in the evening the Council assembled to deliberate on 
the two subjects here following : — 

Ist. Louis Capet appears to be inconvenienced by the length of 
his beard; he has spoken of it several times. They proposed to 
shave him. He manifested repugnance, and showed a desire 
to shave himself. 

The Council thought yesterday that it might give him the hope 
that his request would be acceded to to-day; but this morning it 
was discovered that Louis Capet's razors are no longer in the 
Temple. On that, occasion was taken to discuss the matter again ; 
it has been amply argued and the result is a imanimous resolu- 
tion to submit the matter to the Council-general of the Com- 
mune, which, in case it judges proper to permit Louis Capet to 
shave himself, will direct that there be given to him one, or 
two, razors, of which he will make use before the eyes of four 
commissioners, to whom the said razors shall be immediately re- 
turned, and who will register the fact that the return has been 
made to them. 

2d. The wife, sister, and daughter of Louis Capet have asked 
that scissors be lent to them to cut their nails. 

The Council having deliberated thereon has likewise voted 
unanimously that this request shall also be submitted to the 
Council-general of the Commune, which is hereby asked, in case 
it gives its consent, to fix the method to be employed in the 

It is decreed that the present deliberation shall be sent to the 
Coimcil-general of the Commune this day, and early enough for 

318 APPENDIX IV. [179S 

the answer to reach the Council of the Commune in the Temple 
before night 

And the following do sign the registers. 

Maubebt, Defbassb, Jon, 

BoBEBT IdJLLiyoiBy and Destoubkelles. 


Sigjis agreed upon to make known to the Princesses the Prog^ 
ress of the various Armies^ etc. ; and sundry Communications 
from Madame Misaheth to M. Turgy. 

[The queen and Madame Eilisabeth arranged a system of signs 
with Turgy, the faithful waiter who brought up their meals. 
These with several written communications from Madame l^lisa- 
beth, conveyed to him in a variety of ways, Turgy took to Vienna 
in 1796, and gave into the hands of Madame Marie-Th^r^ de 
France. The following (in the French) was copied from those 

The English put to sea: right thumb on nght eye; if they land 
near Nantes, put it on right ear ; if near Calais, left ear. 

If the Austrians fight on Belgian frontier, forefinger of right 
hand on right eye. If they enter France, on right ear. If on the 
Mayence side, same with middle finger. 

Savoyards, fourth finger, same signs. Spaniards, fifth [little] 
finger, same signs. 

Be careful to hold the fingers to the place more or less time 
according to importance of the losses. 

When they are within 15 leagues of Paris keep the same order 
for the fingers, but lay them on the mouth. ^ 

1 Remembering all that Count Fenen tells of the delays and the caUona 
indifference of the Powers, each pretending to wait for the others, it i« 
piteous to think of these women watching daily for signs of a deliyerer 
who never came, but left them coldly to their one deliverer. Death. — Tb. 

1792] APPENDIX IT. 319 

If the Powers speak about us, lay fingers on the hair, using the 
right hand. 

If the Assembly pays attention to them, the same, using the 

If it adjourns [^en allaW], the whole hand over the head. 

If the rassemblements [collections of kmigres] advance here, 
and gain advantages, the finger of right hand on the nose for one 
advantage, and the whole hand when they are within fifteen 
leagues of Paris. 

Use the left hand only for the advantages of the French. 

In answer to all questions use the right hand only, not the left. 
[Here three lines are undecipherable]. Is there a truce, raise 
your collar. Are they asking for us on the frontier, hand in coat 
pocket. Are they negotiating, in waistcoat. Paris, are they 
provisioning it, hand on chin. Has General la Marseille gone, on 
forehead. Are the Spaniards trying to join the Nantes people, 
rub the eyebrow. 

Is it thought we shall still be here in August t After supper 
go to Fidel (Toulan); ask him if he has news of Froduse. If he 
has good news, napkin under right arm ; if none at all, under left. 
Tell him that we fear his denunciation may bring him into trouble. 
Ask him whenever he has news of Produse to tell you, and then 
sign it to us. 

Can you not, if anything new happens, write it to us with 
lemon-juice on the paper they use to stopper the water-bottle, or 
put over the cream 7 or perhaps you could put it in a ball, which 
you could throw down in the room when you are there alone. 
Qet possession of the paper on the bottles whenever I blow my 
nose as I leave my room. The days when you use that means, 
lean against the wall as I pass you. 

If it is thought we shall still be here in August hold the napkin 
in your hand. We hope you will not be harassed again. 

Do not fear to use the left hand for bad news of the armies; we 
prefer to know alL If the Swiss declare war the sign is a finger 
on the chin. If the Nantes people reach Orleans two fingers on 
the chin. 

What are they crying under our windows t . . . {several 

320 APPENDIX lY. [1792 

words illegible) received his paidon yesterday. . . • Has he an 
idea that we are informed t and will he not redouble in attentions 
to prevent it t Whatever wrong the poor man has done it can only 
inspire pity, all the more because his repentance followed immedi- 
ately upon his fault. God has punished him very severely. We 
pity him. 

Is it true that fear has seized the Parisians, especially young 
ment My sister may soon ask for almond-milk. . . . Has the 
Commune been changed t Is Tison's wife as crazy as they say 
she ist Do they mean to send any one to us in her placet Is 
she well taken care of 7 

Consider carefully the disadvantages of T's (Toulan's) demand, 
and do not let your zeal lead you to do anything to your injury; 
if you yield, let it be only after you are urged, and promised the 
greatest secrecy. Are you not expressly forbidden to speak to 
him t Consider all that. Try to find out if they are not trying to 
throw the disturbances on my companion [the queen] and take her 
property (Louis XVII.) more than two leagues away from her. It 
was Fidel (Toulan) who gave us the newspaper I mentioned. 
The manner in which you serve us is our consolation. Ask Mme. 
de S. (S^reut) for answer on Miranda. 

We saw a newspaper yesterday which spoke of Saumur and 
Angers as if the B were still mistress; what does that meant 
Is Marat really deadt has it made an excitement t 

Tell Fidel how touched we are by his last note ; we do not 
need his assuraoces to rely wholly and always upon him ; his 
signals are good. We only want Aux armeSf citoyensf in case 
they intend to reunite us. But we hope that such precautions 
will not be necessary. Is your fate decided t answer this ques- 
tion. If it is necessary that we should get your note quickly, 
lean towards us and lower your napkin. Tison sometimes hin- 
ders our taking it at once. But we will watch for it ; do not be 
uneasy. This is only to be when you have something urgent to 
say to us. 

Who is the municipal whom they suspect of being in corres- 
pondence with us t Is it by writing, or merely by giving news t 
Who said itt Have they no suspicion of yout Take care. 

1792] APPENDIX IV. 321 

You most give this, Tuesday, to the peison to whom you went 
Satoiday ; it is the woman. Give her something to hring out 
the ink. Send no answer until Tuesday, so as not to multiply 

Give Fidel this note fiom us, and say to him that because my 
sister has told you that she sees the little boy go up the staircase, 
through the window of the cabinet, this is not to keep him from 
sending us news of him. Why do they beat the drums every 
morning at six o'clock t Answer this. If you can without com- 
promising Mme. de S^rent [one of Madame l^lisabeth's ladies], 
or yourself, tell her, that I beg her not to remain in Paris for me. 
The proposal at the Cordeliers against the nobles worries me for 
her. If anything happens at the Federation do not fail to let us 
know. What foundation is there for all the victories they have 
been crying for the last three days t If you have need of almond 
milk, hold your napkin low when I . . • 

What has become of the English fleet t and of my brothers} 
Have we a fleet at sea t What do you mean when you say that 
all goes well ? Is it hope of a quick end, of a change in the pub- 
lic mind 7 or are things really going well t Are these executions 
of persons whom we know? We hear them cried in the street. 
How is Mme. de S^rent, and my abb^ [Edgeworth de Firmont] t 
Constant [M. Hu€] ? does he know by chance any news of Mme. 
de Bombelles, who is living near St-Gall in Switzerland t What 
has become of all the persons at Saint-Cyr t Tell me if you have 
been able to read all this ; and cover the water-bottle with good 
paper that we can use. 

As for Mme. de S^rent, as soon as the law about the imigrfs 
is wholly finished let her know, and continue to give me news of 

This is for Fidel. What you tell me about that person [the 
queen] gives me great pleasure. Is it the gendarme, or the wo- 
man, who sleeps in her roomt Could she hear through the 
latter anything more than news of those she loves ? If you can- 
not be useful to her there, put yourself in some place whence jotx 

322 APPENDIX lY. p792 

will not be forced to move ; but let me know where, in case we 
haye need of yon. I do not consider what concerns me, but if 
you cannot be useful to that person come and join me in case yoa 
are needed. 

I cannot yet belieye that you are going away. Try to let me 
know what is decided ; whether you remain and Tison's wife re- 
turns. Could you throw a paper into the basket, or put it in a 
loaf of bread t Tell me if it is through Mme. de S^rent that you 
hear news of a being who, like me, knows how to appreciate 
faithful men [the Abb^ Edge worth de Firmont]. It is with 
deep regret that I see you taken from me; the last and only one 
that remains to me. 

I am much distressed; save yourself for the days when we 
may be happier, and able to give you some reward. Carry with 
you the consolation of having been useful to kind and imhappy 
masters. Advise Fidel not to risk too much for our signals. If 
chance lets you see Mme. Mallemain [one of Mme. Elisabeth's 
waiting-women] give her news of me and tell her I think of 

Adieu, honest man [Turgy] and faithful subject. 

My little girl [Madame Boyale] insists that you made her a 
sign yesterday morning ; relieve me of anxiety if you still can. 
I have found nothing. If you put it imder the bucket it must 
have flowed away with the water and will certainly never be 
found. If there is any news for us, let me know it if you still 

Have you read my second bit of paper, in which I spoke of 
Mme. Mallemain t Tell Constant [Hu6j that I am convinced of 
his sentiments ; I thank him for the news he gives me, and I am 
much grieved at what has happened to him. 

Adieu, honest man and faithful subject ! I hope that the Qod 
to whom you are faithful will support you, and console you in 
what ^ou hay9 to suffer^ 



Louis XVIJ% Seal and Ring, 

[CLisY did not continue in the service of the dauphin, as the 
king requested. He was compelled to give up the above-named 
articles to the Council of the Commune, and they remained in 
the council-room of the Tower until they were mysteriously 
stolen. This was done (as will be seen by the Narrative of 
Marie-Th^r^se de France) at the instigation of the queen, who 
was passionately desirous of rescuing these memorials of her 
husband for her son. Eventually, after the queen's death, 
Turgy took the seal to Monsieur^ and the ring to the Comte 
d'Artois, as will be seen by the following Kote to Cl^ry^s 

Having started from Vienna on my way to England, I passed 
through Blankemburg with the intention of doing homage to 
the king [Louis XYIII.] and presenting to him my manuscript. 
When His Majesty reached this part of my Journal, he searched 
in his secretary and showing me with emotion a seal, he said to 
me: **Cl^ry, do you recognize it?" "Ah! Sire, it is the 
very one." ** If you doubt it," said the king, "read this note." 
I read it trembling, and I asked the king's permission to print 
the precious document. The following is a copy from the 
original : — 

*' Having one faithful being on whom we can rely, I profit by 
him to send to my brother and friend, this deposit which can 
be intrusted to no hands but his. The bearer will tell you by 
what miracle we have been able to obtain these precious pledges. 
I reserve to myself to tell you some day the name of him who has 
been so useful to us. The impossibility, up to this time, of giving 
you any news of us, and the excess of our sorrows, makes us feel 
even more keenly our cruel separation. May it not be much 


longer ! I embrace you meantime as I Ioyo you, and you know that 

that is with all my heart 

" M. A, [Marie Antoinette]." 

'' I am charged for my brother and myself to embrace you with 

all our hearts. 

«M. T. [Marie-Th^rfese]. Louis." 

'' I enjoy in advance the pleasure you will feel in receiving this 
pledge of friendship and confidence. To be reunited with you, 
and to see you happy is all that I desire ; you know if I love 
you ; I kiss you with all my heart. 

"E. M. pfelisabeth Marie]." 

The ring was sent with a packet of the king's [Louis XYI.] 
hair to Monseigneur le Gomte d'Artois. Here is the note that 
accompanied it : — 

'' Having at last found means to confide to our brother one of 
the two sole pledges that remain to us of the being whom we all 
mourn and cherish, I thought you would be very glad to have 
something that came from him ; keep it as a sign of the tender- 
est friendship with which I embrace you with all my heart. 

"M. A." 

''What happiness for me, my dear friend, my brother, to be 
able after so long a space of time to speak to you of my feelings. 
What I have suffered for you ! A time will come, I hope, when 
I can embrace you, and tell you that never will you find a friend 
truer and more tender than I ; you do not doubt it, I hope. 



AvQOXTLkMM (Dnc d')> 209; marriage 
to Marie-Th^r^, Kadame Rojale de 
France, 290, 291. 

Ao0TA (Duke of), snitor to Mme. ^UiBa- 
beth, 9. 

Artoib (Charles, Comte d')i character- 
isticfl, 14, 15; relations with Mme. 
ISliBabeth, 21, 22 ; she diaapproves of 
his intimacy with Calonne, 58; re- 
lations with his family daring the 
KeTolation, 69-71, 73; letters from 
Mme. :fi:iiBabeth, 76, 77, 324. 

August 10, 1792. CMrj's account of 
it, 112-118; Madame Royale's ac- 
count of it, 236-243. 

Baillt (Jean Sylvain), astronomer, 
author of *< History of Astronomy," 
mayor of Paris, 215. 

Barnays (Antoine-Pierre-Joseph-Ma- 
rie), goes to Varennes to bring back 
the king, 226, 227. 

Beauchbsne (M. A. de), his ** Vie de 
Madame Elisabeth," 1. 

BoMBELLKS (Marquiso de), one of Mme. 
Elizabeth's friends and correspond- 
ents, 10; Mme. "E.'s letters to her 
and others, 33-89 ; Mme. "k. inquires 
for her in her last days, 321. 

BouiLLt (Marquis de), and his son, 
their failure at Varennes, 221, 222. 

Brazil (Infant of Portugal, Prince of), 
suitor to Mme. iS^lisabeth, 8. 

Brbteuil (Baron de), his powers from 
Louis XVI., 74. 

Calonhb (Charles- Alexandre de), .34, 
35, 58. 

Causans (Marquise de), superintendent 
of Mme. Isiisabeth's hooseliold, 

Caubanb (Mile. Marie de), Mme. Elisar 
beth's letter to her, 38-40. 

Causans (Marquis de), correspondence 
with Mme. [Elizabeth lost, 10. 

Chaumettb (Pierre-Graspard), 274 ; 
brutal questioning of Madame Elisa- 
beth and her niece, 275, 276. 

Chauteau-Laoardb (M.), hie defence 
of Mme. Elisabeth, 92, 101, 102 ; and 
of the Queen, 277. 

Choisbul (Due de), at Varennes, 221, 

Cli^rt, Louis XVI.'s valet de ckamhre, 
his " Journal of the Temple," 2, 111. 
206 ; his account of August 10, 1792, 
112-118; admitted to the Tower of 
the Temple to serve the king and 
dauphin, 119-121 ; massacres of Sept. 
2 and 3 ; Madame de LambaUe's head 
brought to the Temple, 122-124 ; de- 
scription of the small tower of the 
Temple, 125 ; life of the royal family, 
126-129 ; character and insolence of 
their jailers, 130-137; instances of 
pity, 134, 135 ; description of the great 
Tower of the Temple, 148, 149 ; nai^ 
rative of erents in the Tower till the 
king's condemnation, 150-165 ; same 
till his death, 175-206 ; mentioned in 
the Narratire of Marie-Th^r^ de 
France, 252, 254, 259, 260; his in- 
terview with Louis XVm. at Blank- 
emburg, 323. 

Clotildb db Francs (Madame), 
Queen of Sardinia, sisterly relations 



with Mme. foiBabeth, 3, 4 ; their sor- 
rowfol parting, 7. 

DuMOUKisz (Charles Frangois), 261. 

£li8ABBth db Fkancb (Philippine- 
Marie-H^l^ne, Kadame), birth, early 
character, self-will, and pride, 2, 3; 
gradual change under wise manage- 
ment, 4-6; Marie- Antoinette's judg- 
ment of her as a child, 7 ; her house- 
hold formed, proposals of marriage, 
8, 9; attachment to her young 
friends, 10-12 ; plans her life, her 
personal appearance, 16 ; enthusiasm 
for the war of independence in Amer- 
ica, 17, 18; the king's gift to her of 
Montreuil, and her life there, 19-22 ; 
devotion to her brothers, especially 
the king, 5, 21, 22; her fears for 
and of him in the future, 22; her 
spirit of faith, 23 ; her last day at 
Montreuil, Oct. 5, 1789, her firm and 
wise advice to Louis XVL, 24 ; her 
farewell to Montreuil, 25 ; life and 
anxieties in the Tnileries till June 
20, 1791, 25, 26; the same till June 
20, 1792, 27, 28; Resignation; her 
last letter, 31 ; August 10, 1792, her 
last appearance to the world until 
her execution, May 10, 1794, 32; her 
letters to friends from 1786 to Au- 
gust 8, 1792, 33-89 ; fac-simile of her 
writing, 87; of her seals, 89; the 
record of her life in the Tower of 
the Temple told by her niece and by 
Cl^ry, 90 ; the municipality of Paris 
demands her arraignment, 90, 91 ; 
she is taken from the Temple and 
examined by Fouqnier-Tinville, 92, 
and Appendix, 313-316 ; indicted and 
arraigned with twenty-four others 
before the Revolutionary Tribunal, 
93-95; her examination, 95-101; 
sentenced to death; Fouquier-Tin- 
ville's remark upon her, 103 ; inspires 
and strengthens those who are to die 
with her, 104, 105; her death, 106; 
Clary's account of her life in the 
Tower of the Temple, 118, 122-124, 

126-129, 135, 137, 141, 150, 151, 154, 
156, 159, 160, 164, 166, 169-171, 177, 
178; the parting from Louis XVL, 
199, 200 ; account giyen of her in the 
Narrative of her niece, Marie Th^rte 
de France, on October 5, 1 789, 21 0, 2 13; 
on the flight to Varennes, 216, 218; 
on June 20, 1792, her bravery and 
speech, 232, 234, 239 ; in the Tower 
of the Temple, 253, 261, 264, 267, 
269, 272; her examination in the 
Temple, 274-276 ; life in the Tower 
from the queen's death to her own 
martyrdom, 278-283; her examina- 
tion at the Conciergerie by Fouqnier- 
Tinville, 313-316 ; her system of signs 
and notes of communication in the 
Temple with Turgyand Toulan, 318- 
322 ; last words to Monsieur and the 
Comte d' Artois, 324. 

Falloux (Comte de), description of the 
Duchesse d'AngoulSme just before 
her death in 1851, 291. 

Faybab (M. de), execution of, 25, 45; 
book by him, 312. 

Fayettk (Marquis de la), his conduct 
on the 5th and 6th of October, 1789, 
24; made governor of the Tuileries 
and keeper of king's person after re- 
turn from Varennes, 27; convinced 
of his mistaken course, becomes will- 
ing to save the king, 29, 49; com- 
mands the rioters October 5, 1789, 
and compels the king to go to Paris, 
211, 213-215, 218; sends in pursuit 
of the king to Varennes, 222, 228, 
229, 246. 

FsRBAND ( Antoine), Minister of State, 
and peer of France, his "kloge His- 
torique de Madame ^isabeth de 
France, 1. 

Fbrsbn (Axel, Count), the flight to 
Varennes, 218, 219. 

FiRMONT (the Abb^ Edgeworth de), 
becomes Mme. ^Hisabeth's confessor, 
59 ; extract from his Memoirs, 59, 
60 ; summoned by the king after his 
condemnation, 194, 195; is with the 
king the last evening of his life, 198 ; 



njB mass on the last moming, 201, 
202, 257 ; last words to Louis XVI. 
on the scaffold, 258 ; Marie Th^r^se, 
Dachesse d'Angonl^me, nurses him 
in his last illness. 321, 322. 
EonQniBR-TiNTiLi«B (Antoine-Qnen- 
tin), examination and arraignment 
of Madame :i:iisabeth, 92-96, 813- 
816; his remark nppn her, 103. 

OoauBULT (M.), 64, 221. 

GoMiBR, jailer at the Temple, ap- 
pointed after 9th Thermidor, his 
kindness to the danphin, 287. 

GnsTAYUS m.. King of Sweden, his 
mnrder and deaths 79. 

Hub (Francois), the Narratiye of the 
Dnchesse d'Angooldme given to him, 
209, 248. 

Joseph IL of Austria, Emperor of 

Germany, a suitor to Madame ^!lisar 

heth, 9. 
Jirra 20, 1791, Yarennes: account of 

it in the Narratiye of Marie Th^r^se 

de France, 216-230. 
June 20, 1792, assault on the Tuileries, 

account of it in same Narratiye, 230- 


Lamballb (Marie-Th^r^se-Louise de 
Sayoie-Carignan, Princesse de), tries 
to brighten the queen's life in the 
Tuileries after October 6, 1789, 25; 
leayes the Tuileries with the royal 
family, August 10, 1792, 32; goes 
with them to the Tower of the 
Temple, 115, 118; horrible indig- 
nities to her head and body after her 
murder, September 3d, 122-124, 130; 
mention of her by Marie Th^rese de 
France,.233; in the Temple, 244, 245, 
248, 249. 

Lasnb, jailer in the Temple who suc- 
ceeds Laurent, takes the greatest care 
of the dauphin, 288. 

LAnRBKT, appointed after 9th Thermi- 
dor jailer to the dauphin and Marie- 
Th^x^se, his kindness, 285-289. 

Louis XVI., becomes king at the age 
of 19, 7; his character, 12, 13, 15; 
his reforms, 7, 8, 16, 17 ; giyes Mon- 
treuil to Mme. ifelisabeth, 18, 19 ; his 
need of her, 22; October 5, 1789, his 
weakness and indecision, 24; urged 
by Mme. Elisabeth to firmness and 
action, 25, 27 ; his weak letter to his 
confessor, June 20, 1792, 28 ; yainly 
urged by the Constitutionals to form 
a National party and put himself at 
the head of the army, 29-31 ; aban- 
dons the Tuileries against the will of 
his wife and sister, August 10, 1792, 
31, 32 ; his character transformed in 
the Tower of the Temple, 32 ; signs 
the Constitution, 67, 68, 71 ; his life 
in the Tower described by his yalet, 
CMry, 119-165; the books he read, 
150; is summoned for trial before 
the National Conyention, 166-172; 
obtains counsel, 173; is separated 
from his family, 175; his Will, 180- 
184 ; appears the second time before 
the Conyention, 185; his sentence to 
death, 188-194 ; his conduct under it, 
194 et seq. ; sends for the Abb^ Edge- 
worth de Firmont, 195; the parting 
with his family, 198-200; prepares 
for death, 201-204 ; leayes the Temple 
for the scaffold, 205 ; his daughter's 
account of him on October 5, 1789, 
on the flight to Yarennes, on June 
20, 1792, on August 10, 1792, 210- 
243; from the imprisonment in the 
Tower of the Temple till his death, 
243, 259 ; the parting with his family, 
257; Fili de Saint-Louis, numttz au 
del, 258. 

Louis Charles (Dauphin), Clary's ac- 
count of him in the Tower of the 
Temple, 119 ; the king educates him, 
127 ; his prayers, 129 ; his games, 
150, 167 ; his goodness of heart and 
thoughtfulness, 160-162; separated 
from his father, 168, 169 ; the final 
parting from his father, 199, 200, 
257 ; rough treatment the beginning 
of his illness, 263, 264; torn from 
his mother and family, 266, 267 ; his 



mother watches daily for hoars to see 
him through a chink in the wall, 267, 
288 ; giyen over to the brntal care of 
Simon, 268 ; is degraded hj him, 270, 
271 ; his most dreadful life, 280, 281, 
284; after 9th Thermidor his keep- 
ers, Lanrent, Gomier, and Lasne, 
were yery kind to him, 286, 287 ; his 
health destroyed, he dies of dirt, 
neglect, and cruelty, June 9, 1795, at 
3 P.M., 288, 289. 
LuBBBSAO (Abb^ de), letters from 
Mme. i:iisabeth to, 42, 65, 84, 87; 
massacred September 2, 1792. 

Mackau (the Baronne de), Mme. ^lisar 
beth's second governess, her wise 
treatment of the child, 4, 6. 

Malbshbrbbs (Chrestien de Lamoig- 
non de), failure of his reform min- 
istry, 8, 30; his letter to Pres. of 
National Convention offering to be 
the king's counsel, 173,174; consul- 
tations with the king, 175-177, 187, 
184 ; informs the king of his sentence 
to death, 188, 189 ; denied access 
after that to the king, 190, 192, 256, 

Maloubt (M. de), his Memoirs of the 
Constituent Assembly relate the ef- 
forts made to induce Louis XVI. to 
leave Paris and form a National 
Party, 29-31. 

Manubl, prosecutor of the Commune 
and member of National Assembly, 
his insults to the king, 151-153, 244, 

Marib-Antoinettb (Queen), became 
queen at 18 years of age, 7 ; aids the 
king in giving Montreuil to Mme. 
Elisabeth, 19, 20 ; life in the Tuileries 
after October 6, 1789, 25; shares 
Mme. Elisabeth's fear of the king's 
weakness, but looks for help from 
Austria, 27; her noble speech, Au- 
gust 10, 1792, 31 ; her last appearance 
to the eyes of men until her condem- 
nation and death, October 16, 1798, 
32 ; Mme Elisabeth's remarks about 
her in letters^ 36, 37 ; taken to the 

Tower of the Temple, 118; attempt 
to make her see the head of Mme. de 
Lamballe, 122-124; her life and oc- 
cupations in the Temple described by 
Cl^ry, 125-130 et seq. ; her terrible 
parting from the king, 198-200 ; 
her daughter's account of her, 211- 
213, 216, 217, 221, 232, 234-236, 238, 
245, 249, 252, 253, 255, 257, 258, and 
until her death, 259-278, 286 ; apos- 
trophe to her written by Marie- 
Th^r^ on the wall of her room in 
the Tower, 289, 290. 

MARiB-TH6R:fe8B DE Franob, Duchesse 
d' AngoulSme, her Narrative, 2 ; taken 
with her family to the Tower of the 
Temple, 118 ; Clary's account of her 
life there, \2b et seq,, 150, 151 ; faints 
on parting with her father, 199 ; her 
Narrative, 209-295 ; of the first up- 
rising, October 5, 1789, 210-216; of 
the flight and stoppage at Varennes, 
June 20, 1791, 216-230; of the a»- 
sault on the Tuileries, June 20, 1792, 
230-236; of August 10, 1792, 236- 
243; of the imprisonment in the 
Tower of the Temple till the death 
of the king, 243-259; of the life in 
the Tower from the death of the king 
to that of the queen, 259-278 ; of the 
same until the death of Mme. Elisa- 
beth and the dauphin, 278-289; her 
release from the Temple, marriage, 
exile, and portrait, 290 ; Napoleon's 
remark upon her, 291, 306 ; the close 
of her life at Frohsdorf, 291; the 
words upon her tomb, 291 ; Sainte- 
Beuve's essay on her life and char- 
acter, 294-310. 

Marsan (Comtesse de), Mme. Elisa- 
beth's first governess, 3. 

Mirabeau (Honor^-Gabriel-Riquetti 
Comte de), 54 ; his death, 60, 61. 

MoKTiBBS (Marquise de), letter from 
Mme. Elisabeth to, 50-52. 

Montmorin (M. de.), his efforts with 
others to induce the king to leave 
Paris, August 7, 1792, and form a 
National party, 29-31. 

MONTRBUIL, 19-22, 25, 36, 44 ; its fate 



after Madame ifeUsabeth's imprison- 
ment, its greenhonses, library, etc., 
311, 312. 
MoBBiB (GouTexnenr), his efforts to 
influence Loqis XVL to action, 30. 

Nbckxb (M.), 22, 24. 

OoTOBBB Sth and 6tb, 1789, beginning 
of the French Rerolation, and the 
end of the Monarchy, 210-216. 

OBLtANS (Philippe Egalit^, Due d'), 
49 ; conduct on the Sth October, 1 789, 
212, 213 ; Totes the king's death, 194 ; 
his death, 278. 

FiriOH (J^rdme), goes with Bamave 
and others to compel the king's re- 
turn from Varennes, 226, 227 ; con- 
duct as Mayor of Paris, 234, 236, 242, 

Pbotbmcb {Monsieur^ Comte de), after- 
wards Louis XVTEL, 12; character- 
istics, 14 ; his friends, 15 ; at Mon- 
treuil, 21 ; corrects the Narratiye of 
Marie-Th^r^e, Duchesse d'Angou- 
Idme, 209 ; she shares his exile after 
her release from the Tower, 290, last 
letters of the family in the Tower to 
him, 323. 

Baiobcoubt (Marquise de), one of 
Madame Elisabeth's friends and cor- 
respondents, 10; charming story of 
Mme. ]£2.'s love for her, 1 1 ; Mme. J^.'s 
letters to her and others, 33-89. 

BoGHBFoncAULD (Duc de La), his ac- 
count of the king and royal family 
leaving the Tuileries, August 10, 
1792, 32. 

Saintb-Bbuyb (C.-A.), his essay on 
the Duchesse d'AngoulSme, 294-310. 

Saittebbb, brewer, and Commander of 
the National Guard, 128, 196; fetches 

the king for the scaffold, 205, 233, 

SiouB (Vicomte de), 36. 

SizB (M. de), one of the king's counsel 
for his defence, 177; defends him, 

Simon, shoemaker, jailer at the Tower, 
his insolence, 132; brutal treatment 
of the little dauphin, 268; depraves 
him, 270, 271. 

Swiss Gdabd (The), their splendid de- 
votion and butchery, August 10, 1792, 

Tabgbt (M.), refuses the king's re- 
quest to defend him, 173. 

Tison, employed in the Tower of the 
Temple, 151, 245; Mme. Tison be- 
comes insane from remorse, 265, 

TouLAK, a municipal at the Temple 
faithful to the royal family, his death 
in consequence, 157, 158; notes to 
him from Mme. Elisabeth, 321 ; res- 
cues the king's seal and ring for the 
queen, 323. 

TouBZEL (Marquise de), accompanies 
royal family to the Temple, 32, 115, 
118 ; the dauphin prays for her, 129 ; 
Madame Royale's account of her, 
217-221, 238, 239, 244. 

Tbomchbt (M.), accepts the king's re- 
quest to defend him, 173, 175, 176, 

TuBooT (RobertJacques), failure of 
his reform ministry, 7. 

TuBOT, seeks employment in the 
Temple to serve the imprisoned 
royal family, 143, 144, 177, 178, 212, 
272; signs agreed upon and notes 
passing between himself and Mme. 
Elisabeth, 318-^22; carries the seal 
and ring of Louis XVI., with notes 
from the royal family to Monsieur 
and the Comte d'Artois, 323, 324. 


TOi— #> 202 Main Library 



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HOV 381861 

He'd circ. JAN 1 7 gg 



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NOV 2 C 1QP4 


FORM NO. DD6, 60m, 1 /83 BERKELEY, CA 94720 _